Previously:
…With a quick twist he brought his sword dangerously close to her neck as she stumbled out of the war over another body. She rushed to get her sword up in time to block his next swing, but Bors was already there slicing his blade across the man's throat. With a nod the knight took off again to find more Saxons to kill. It was at that moment that Nara realised that she was probably in way over here head.
The Other
Chapter 10
Nara could hear her breath sawing heavily in and out of her lungs as she became lost in the battle. Time seemed to slow as men and women thrust blindly at one another, pain filled cries echoing over the din of clanging metal. Wounded warriors tried to right themselves as they fell to the ground, forgotten as others came to take their place, heedlessly treading over those breathing their last.
Another Saxon fell beneath her sword as she disposed of the clumsy axeman. She finally caught sight of Gwen once more as the woman leapt onto the back of one of the largest men that Nara had ever seen. Realising she was too far away to be of immediate assistance, Nara quickly sheathed her sword and grabbed for her bow as Gwen was thrown violently to the ground. Two arrows were flying through the air, shot from her bow within a moment and embedded in the Saxon's belly just as another Briton woman jumped for his back.
Nara turned away once more, looking for the other men whom had so quickly slipped beneath her defences to find a place in her heart as friends. She kept her bow in hand, drawing a dagger from her belt for added security just as another Saxon made a lunge for her. The man's sword swung wildly through the air in an effort to cleave her head from her shoulders. Nara ducked, throwing herself to the ground and rolling out of the way. Scrambling to her feet she slashed at his shoulder with her dagger, cursing herself silently for sheathing her sword so quickly. She ripped an arrow from her quiver as he lunged for her again. This time she was not fast enough, the wickedly sharp edge of his blade slashed down her arm leaving a trail of fire from shoulder to wrist. Nara ignored the pain as she lunged for the man once more with her dagger in one hand, arrow and bow in the other. Surprised at her sudden attack the man hastily stepped back, blocking her thrust easily. Just as quickly however she swung her other arm up, thrusting the arrow into his exposed throat.
Nara turned away as the battle around her seemed to begin to lull. It was then she saw Tristan and the Saxon leader Cerdic in their deadly dance. Their swords flashed as they met, reflecting both pale sunlight and the fires that still burnt across the battlefield. Nara started making her way towards them, avoiding engaging in anymore one on one battles. Her lungs seemed to choke on the air full of smoke, dust and the heavy smell of blood with the copper tang sharp in her nose. Her arms burned from both injury and fatigue. Glancing at her arm she momentarily considered pausing to bind it, but that would require precious moments of inactivity that could only invite death. Nara ignored the blood seeping steadily from her arm and continued on. The moment she glimpsed Tristan's sword fly from his hand she knew that she would not reach the knight in time. She sheathed her dagger and reached for her quiver, drawing an arrow. Swiftly she aimed and let it fly. The arrow cut across the distance separating Nara and Tristan, somehow avoiding hitting the wrong target. She saw it slam into the leader's shoulder. Nara cursed in frustration; she knew it was a minor inconvenience, nothing that would seriously wound the man.
Nara grabbed another arrow as sunlight flashing of the armour of Arthur caught her attention. He knew his knight was in trouble and was cutting a path through the melee to reach him. Nara took aim again, determined to give Arthur the time he needed to reach Tristan. The arrow slammed into the Saxon's thigh, which he quickly wrenched free.
Any opportunity Nara may have had to shoot again was ruined when an axe seemed to appear from nowhere and slam into her stomach. The breath was knocked from her lungs in a violent rush as she fell to the ground, the metal links of her tunic digging harshly into her skin as they deadened the blow. With a gasp she rolled away from the second blow that landed with a thud in the ground where her head had been just moments before. The bearded Saxon loomed above her as Nara hauled herself to her feet, throwing her bow to the side as she dragged her sword from its sheath. The man swung for her belly once more, a blow that Nara countered in a smooth move, stepping to the side to bring her own weapon singing through the air to cut at his exposed neck. The man easily thrust her sword away with his axe, which he quickly redirected to cut into her leg. A swift parry and Nara sunk her sword into his side, turning away and leaving the man to his fate. She wrenched her bow from the ground, simultaneously sheather her sword.
Calmly Nara drew another arrow, raising her bow to take aim. She knew what she had seen out of the corner of her eye as she had battled the axeman. Cynric, son of Cerdic took aim with his own crossbow across the field. Lancelot's distinctive armour stood out amongst the Saxon fur, and clearly within Cynric's line of sight. Nara's arrow arched through the air, its fate unknown as she was once again confronted with the enemy.
vvvvvvvv
Gawain had killed more men than he could keep track of; had wounded countless more. The apprehension that was a constant companion during battle paled in comparison to the fear and anxiety that chorused through him now. Nara was nowhere to be found.
Tristan had suffered a deep wound to his arm, but one Dagonet was confident would mend well given time and rest. Lancelot clung to life, a crossbow bolt tearing through his side. Gawain knew the man was too stubborn by half to give up on life. No doubt the thought of all the young maidens he had yet to seduce would see the man live for many more years to come. Tristan and Lancelot were both safe in the infirmary that had been hastily erected to tend to the wounded. Galahad would sport some new scars to display to his lady companions. Bors' bastards had surrounded him immediately after the battle had drawn to a close. Vanora had yet to let him out her sight. Dagonet was absorbed in his work in the infirmary. Arthur was busy organising what to do with the dead that littered the plains before the wall, and countless other tasks that a leader was required to fulfil.
Everyone safe and accounted for except the one who seemed to have the ability to warm the heart he thought had become iced over from the many years of long and bitter servitude.
Gawain kicked over another body wearing a tattered and bloody fur coat. The lifeless eyes of both the Saxon, and the Woad that lay beneath him stared up at Gawain. Both friend and foe wore expressions of shock; their fleeting last moments of thought etched upon their faces in death. Where could she be? Bors had assured him she had survived the initial moments of battle. But what happened afterwards? When the battle drew on longer and fatigue set in. Had she made a careless mistake that had cost her life? Had she needed protection from an overwhelming foe that he had not been there to provide? Countless images of Nara's broken body flashed through his mind as he continued his search for the living among the overwhelming dead. And he knew he was not alone searching for friends amongst the fallen.
Gawain scrambled down an embankment into one of the trenches that had been set alight to separate the enemy's forces. Small fires still burnt here and there, but most of the trench now held the burnt remains of grass and some who had not been quick enough to escape both arrow and flame. A small glint of silver in the pale sunlight caught his attention. With a great shove Gawain pushed the dead weight of the Saxon from the person who lay beneath it.
Nara's pale, blood streaked face confronted him.
With shaking hands Gawain knelt to gently brushed the stray strands of her thick hair from her face.
"Nara?" He all but whispered in trepidation. She made no response, no indication at all that she walked among the world of the living. Gawain gathered her into his arms, cradling her head and shoulders as he crouched among the dead. Fear seemed to clog his throat, had it always been a struggle to draw breath he wondered?
"Nara, wake up" He jostled her slightly as he felt her slender neck for a pulse, taking stock of any visual injuries that may have claimed her life. One of the tight bands that had wound its way around his heart loosened ever so slightly as he felt her pulse faintly beneath his fingertips. The sticky mass of blood that covered her right arm had his stomach sinking.
"Open your eyes Nara." Gawain demanded as he shook her more urgently this time. A mumbled curse flittered to his ears as her eyelids fluttered. Gawain gathered her into his arms, urgency in his steps as he strode from the battlefield. He needed Dagonet now.
The distance that separated him from the infirmary seemed to stretch for miles. He pushed his way through the heavy material that covered the entrance to the infirmary. Once inside Gawain was confronted with complete and utter chaos. Men and women lay moaning on hastily constructed cots as people hurried around them to bring water and cloth to clean and bind their wounds. Merlin walked among the injured, lending his healing skills as he demonstrated to more of his people how to help the wounded. Gawain saw Dagonet at the far end of the tent, Tristan and Lancelot on cots nearby.
"Dagonet!" Gawain called out, drawing the other man's attention to the precious bundle in his arms.
"Bring her here quickly Gawain" Dagonet gestured, Gawain having already started threading his way through the crowd.
"Place her here." Dagonet gestured as he threw spare blankets from a cot secluded at the back of the infirmary. Gawain gently placed Nara on the bed; she made a faint moan of protest before falling silent again.
"We need to get her clothing off, check for other injuries." Dagonet instructed as the two men set about doing so. Gawain began pulling off her boots and stockings, while Dagonet attacked the straps and buckles that held her leather tunic in place. All three items were quickly removed and both men looked at removing the long sleeve tunic she wore underneath. Dagonet gently picked up her injured arm, peeling away some of the sleeve that lay heavy with blood against her arm.
"I need warm water quickly" He ordered a Briton who hovered nearby waiting for instructions.
"Hand me your knife Gawain." He passed it over without a word. With an easy efficiency, Dagonet deftly cut the rest of the tunic from Nara's body, leaving the sleeve that had become stuck to her arm. Dagonet pulled the material away, drawing a sharp breath as the angry blossoming bruise on her stomach was revealed. The two men looked at each other, worry both creasing their brows.
"Will she be ok?" Gawain asked Dagonet quietly, as a woman returned with a steaming bowl of water.
"I do not know, Gawain, I am sorry." He replied as he grabbed a cloth and began the tedious process of revealing how threatening the wound on her arm was.
Thankyou to all of you who have reviewed/story alerted/favourite story this little piece of mine. I am terribly sorry for how long it has been since I last updated, but as you get older it seems you have less and less time to do what you want. I do hope that you all enjoy this update, I've already planned the next so hopefully I will have it done by the time the Easter/Anzac long weekend is finished!
