AN: I know, it's been a really long time. Thanks for still reading and reviewing. I'm trying to get my act together. Hope you enjoy this one.
Kayleigh sat atop a hill beyond the cemetery, staring unseeing into the distance. She sat on her heels, her legs folded beneath her in the damp grass. The small village around the fortress slowly came to life as the sun rose above the horizon. Even as the farmers took to working the fields around her, she stayed in her trance-like state like a figure etched from stone. Only her hair moved with the occasional breeze.
Tristan looked down at her from the parapets of the fortress wall. His shoulder was healing well, but the whole ordeal had left him exhausted. It was nice to sleep in his own room again, but he couldn't stand how confined he felt. He needed to get out. Atop the fortress walls he had a birds-eye view. He could watch the activities of those inside and outside the wall. For the moment, he had his eyes fixed on Kayleigh, as they had been since the moon had set.
As if it would help him decipher why she had been out there all morning, he squinted his eyes. "She's been out there since we came back. I saw her walk straight out after she was finished with the horses," Dagonet informed him.
Tristan didn't need to be reminded of that. He had thought their ordeal in Eire had brought them closer, but the way she had completely ignored him only confirmed his conclusion as to what had happened the morning he witnessed Kayleigh and Lancelot leave her room together. He hadn't been able to think of anything else the entire trip back. At least before that night she would give him a passionate argument and a toss of her wavy hair if she was angry with him. Now he got nothing but silence.
Though anger burned in his heart toward Lancelot, he glanced back at Kayleigh with increasing concern. She had to have been just as tired as he, yet she didn't sleep? If she thought she was going with them today to face the Saxons, she needed to rest. He turned on Dagonet, "Why didn't you stop her?"
"It wasn't my right to interfere," Dagonet said sadly.
"Of course. Perhaps we should send Lancelot," Tristan hissed.
A spark of anger lit Dagonet's eyes as he addressed Tristan, voice stern, "This has nothing to do with him, or you. Any fool with half a brain can figure it out. If you hadn't been so caught up in yourself and your 'troubles' you would know what ails her and that her heartache dwarfs yours in comparison."
Dagonet rarely let his temper slip but he felt better that he spoke his mind. He knew what conclusion Tristan had come to between Lancelot and Kayleigh and knew that it was unfounded. If he could get Tristan to talk to her, Tristan would know that too. "It is the anniversary of her brother's death. In her mourning, she has neither eaten nor slept in the past two days."
Kayleigh was aware of everything around her. Though she could see how others could believe her mind was far from her surroundings, in truth, it was the complete opposite. She could hear the flap of the night owl's wings, smell the trees of the forest from across the field, and feel the life within every wisp of grass she knelt upon. Not only were her senses of this world heightened, but of another world as well.
She knew she didn't have much time. With sunrise came a new day, and death and birth could not co-exist in that same moment. Her senses hit their peak after the moon set. The veil of the Other World was thinner when neither day nor night dominated the earth. It was then that she felt her brother's spirit the strongest. She communicated with him in a language that transcends speech and thoughts. Why have you not moved on to the world of our ancestors?
His tone was light and playful. How would I be able to protect you from there?
You don't need to protect me, she replied.
What kind of brother would I be if I didn't?
Kayleigh's heart sank in realization. A dead one. As wonderful as our bond is, I cannot let this connection give me false hope. You aren't coming back. The past has happened. It wasn't just a nightmare I can discard. This is only a fleeting moment that may never come again.
She felt his mood grow serious. Yes, this is true. You always were the practical one bringing my head down out of the clouds. Then let me tell you what you need to know. The battles ahead are dangerous. I do not only mean today's battle with the Saxons. Your decisions can change the fate of those lives around you.
This news frightened her. She had always lived an insignificant life. The knowledge that her choices may have some importance to the world around her and those she cared about made her uneasy. What if she chose the wrong path? She felt the warmth of her brother's comfort surround her.
Your heart has been damaged in the past, Kayleigh. But do not let your mistrust keep you from happiness. You did not end up here by mistake. You were put into the lives of Arthur and his knights for a reason, and them in yours.
The sky was lightening. Time was running out.
What am I supposed to do?
She heard him laugh as if the answer was obvious. Take a chance.
I don't understand! Her heart raced as the clouds burned with bright colors. They only had a few seconds left.
A warm breeze encircled her as if it were his farewell. When the time comes, you will.
The sun peeked over the horizon shattering the grey of the 'tween moment. Kayleigh closed her eyes in grief. Finishing a prayer for her brother's spirit, she stood taking in a shaky breath. She turned toward the sound of an approaching horse.
"We are ready to leave," Lancelot told her, unaware of what had just taken place. "A ride, m'lady?" he asked, offering his hand. Suddenly tired, she took it gratefully, and they rode back to the fortress in silence.
Lancelot circled the slow moving caravan again. They traveled east on the Stanegate road toward the coast where the Saxons' invasion party had landed. The knights were anxious to meet the enemy but the supplies wagon and infantry slowed them down considerably.
Lancelot turned his horse quickly in front of the infantry kicking up more dust than was necessary. He barely held back a grin as the foot soldiers choked on the thick cloud.
"Arthur, could you not discipline your men into riding in formation? This barbarian is making me dizzy," a bored centurion complained. He was in command of one of the seven centuries they were able to scrounge up in such short notice. They had also gathered a squadron of approximately 140 horsemen. Still, from what information they got out of the conspirators from forts around the island, they were greatly outnumbered. They wouldn't have a chance without the Celtic tribes from the west.
"Lancelot, ride ahead to the next milecastle. Find out if they have any new information and report back to me," Arthur commanded before the knight was charged with insubordination.
"You shouldn't be here," Tristan said as he rode up next to Kayleigh.
Kayleigh snorted, "None of us should be here-Sarmatians, Romans, Saxons. The Woads are the only ones that belong here."
Tristan didn't reply. The situation was more complicated than that, she just hadn't been at Hadrian's wall as long as the knights had to understand. Though it was not his war to fight, he had lost brothers-in-arms which made the Woads as much of an enemy to him as the Romans or Saxons. It satisfied him to spill their blood.
He pulled a pair of apples from his saddle bag and handed one to Kayleigh, "You don't need to starve yourself to honor your brother."
"It is my people's custom to fast for three days to honor the dead," she explained impatiently.
"You're weak. If you don't nourish your body before heading into battle, you will join your dead," Tristan stated.
"Well," she said haughtily, while taking the offered apple, "I shall deprive you of that pleasure."
Tristan watched in satisfaction as she urged her horse to the front of the caravan to ride with Gawain and Galahad, taking a bite of the apple on the way. At least she wasn't ignoring him anymore.
Kayleigh hadn't even finished her fruit before Lancelot was back confirming that the Saxons had landed on the Eastern coast and were marching west on the Stanegate taking any fort or mile castle along the way. Many of the villagers had been evacuated days ago but those militia stationed there defended their posts as long as possible before retreating or dying.
By mid-day they had reached the place where they would make their stand. To the north was the wall. Trees covered a high hill to the south. The archers were granted access to the rampart walk through a turret recessed into the wall and rushed to set up their supplies of bows and arrows. Arthur sent the calvary to cut logs from the southern forest so Kayleigh could tend to the many horses. The infantry took to unloading the supplies wagons and digging trenches.
Arthur was pleased to see everything come together within a couple hours. During that time, Tristan had taken out a dozen Saxon scouts before they could report back the danger that awaited them to their leader. The ranks were called into formation, flags and standards raised, and last orders given. The only thing left for Arthur to worry about is whether the warriors of Eire will live up to their word. It was mid-afternoon and still there was no sign of them.
Tristan joined him in the valley, his horse excited, but controled. "They are just beyond the bend in the road," he informed Arthur.
"How many?" Arthur automatically asked.
"Thousands. At least ten," Tristan estimated. He saw his commander doing the math in his head. Tristan had already figured they would be outnumbered more than ten to one.
Arthur nodded, showed no signs of discouragement. "Join the others and wait for my signal," he commanded. He watched the knight ride up the hill and disappear into the trees, hoping it was not the last he saw of Tristan and he prayed his men would make it out of this battle alive.
