#29 Helpless
"But you have to let me go!" Kirra's voice was adamant, but Arthur refused to budge and no one argued with him.
She appealed to each of the gathered men in turn and saw that not one of them was going to speak in her behalf and it infuriated her. She felt like stamping her foot like a little child in the beginnings of a fabulous tantrum.
"Why would you even desire to go with us, Kirra?" Arthur asked gently.
He knew she was furious and didn't want to upset her further. He had never seen the woman in the year and a half she had lived at the fort lose her temper, though he had seen her tired and more than a little annoyed with him and others, she had always kept a tight rein on her temper. Now it seemed that she was to lose total control and he couldn't imagine why now.
He wasn't aware, but Kirra's dreams had been horrible of late. They were true nightmares that left her shaken and terrified, clinging to Gawain and trying to stifle her anguished tears against his chest, not to fall asleep for several hours later after he had talked her through the unknown fear.
Kirra fisted her hands and tried to breathe calmly, but it didn't work. She was more desperate then angry anyhow. "I don't know, other than I know I have to go. It's vital," She explained passionately.
"We've spoken of this before, Kirra and you know we do not allow women to accompany us. It is too dangerous for you and too distracting for us."
Several of the knights nodded in agreement. Bors even went so far as to rap on the table in his agreement. Kirra glared at him darkly until he sat back. Tristan said nothing. His eyes were calm, as always, but set. There was no way, short of Arthur commanding him, that he was about to approve of Kirra's madness. She knew it and stared him down as only one of his own could. As with the beginning, it almost made him feel guilty -- almost.
Gawain wore an expression of frustration. He had already spoken to Arthur and received the same negative answer. There was nothing left that he could do. He had tried to dissuade Kirra from going to the commander to plead her case, but in the end had stepped aside. She had been relatively patient up until this mission, which made Gawain take pause. He wondered if her recent dreams had led up to this.
Kirra looked down and studied the floor, the beginning of tears, glimmering in her eyes. She blinked them back and swallowed hard. When she brought her head back up, she appeared to have her emotions under control. Her voice was tight, but strong.
"Arthur, you know that I would never ask this of you, if I didn't feel it was so important. I don't want to go. I have no desire to go, in fact, the very thought of it chills my blood, but I have to do this thing." When she was upset, Kirra had a tendency to let her second language's wording slip in.
Arthur stood and gestured apology after having looked around the room to gauge how his men felt, "I am sorry, Kirra, but the answer is still and will remain a firm no."
At that, the fight seemed to go out of Kirra and she sagged, "Fine, but take care. All of you." She said in a dark tone and when she left the room the men looked at each other and tried not to notice the shadow that seemed to pass over them or the cold that permeated each one.
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"You couldn't have stood up for me?" She asked Gawain when he returned to his room later that night. Clearly, she felt betrayed that he would sit quietly back, while she fought for what she knew was the thing to be done.
He sighed and crossed the room to where she stood in the moonlight framed by the window. It was an old argument. "I tried, Kirra. I talked to him this afternoon before he called my brothers in. I told him of your concerns. He told me the same thing as he did you and as much as I hate to admit it, Arthur is right. It is too dangerous for everyone. Do you think that we could do our job, knowing you were somewhere about and in possible danger? It would drive me half out of my mind and Tristan ..."
Kirra stepped out of his reach, too angry to be touched at the moment, even by him. "I hate this age," She growled, "All of you think you know best just because you are physically stronger, without even considering that for once, a member of the opposite sex might be right. I need to be there!"
He reached for her again, "Kirra, we acknowledge that women are better then us, we know it, we accept it, but the fact of the matter is that you are weaker then us -- in this," he amended when she glared at him, "and you could get hurt."
She slapped at his hand, "Don't even go there, buddy. If I am meant to be there, and I feel I am, then I will be fine."
Gawain folded his arms across his chest, his blue eyes hard, "You are not all powerful."
"I am not saying I am." she retorted taking the same pose..
"You cannot go and that is final." Gawain's voice was hard and it was clear he was frustrated. "You can pout about it all you want, but it won't change Arthur's decision – it never does. So you can be angry at me and regret it tomorrow when I am gone, or you can come to me and we can enjoy this night before I have to leave in the morning."
Kirra stopped, looked at him in astonishment and then laughed -- hard, "I can't believe you turned that little rant into a plea for sex. Strike that, I actually can believe that you would do something like that. I just can't believe that after what you did to me that I would consider it."
"Did it work?" He asked gathering the still laughing woman into his arms.
Kirra stopped suddenly serious and looked straight into his eyes, "Only because I am not sure what the future holds – not for you, but …." Her voice faded, her fear adding a tremor to what she had said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly and smiled, "Now hurry and kiss me so I'll forget to be scared and the reason I'm so mad at you."
Gawain chuckled and did just that, but long after she had fallen asleep in his arms he thought back on her words and tried not to let them chill him.
They left early the next morning, so early that they thought that no one saw them go, but as he turned back one last time, Gareth saw a slender figure watching from high atop the wall. He waved, but the still figure stood impassive and unmoving. Watching.
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Tossing and turning, Kirra couldn't seem to get comfortable. Something was making her edgy and nervous, but she couldn't figure out what it was. It nagged at her like repetitive noise that she couldn't find to stop. She knew it had something to do with the knights, but no one knew for sure just where they were.
Finally, the young woman gave up and lit her lamp. It was late and, by all accounts, she should have been exhausted, but she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that had surrounded her for the past several days.
She sighed and pulled back the blankets. Noise from the tavern could be heard even this far in the barracks and Kirra was in need of company. Perhaps Van could help the feeling of impending doom ease. Kirra dressed and allowed her hair to hang loose down her back. She knew it made her look younger and more vulnerable, but she was too tired to care.
Ignoring the drunken catcalls as she entered the tavern Kirra sat heavily at the knights' usual table and pilled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Vanora saw her, paused for a moment to retrieve a cup and pitcher of drink and approached her.
"You're up late tonight, Kirra. Everything all right?" the fiery-haired woman asked as she seated herself tiredly beside the girl. She was again in the early months of pregnancy and it was taking its toll on her.
Kirra pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, the start of a fantastic headache was beginning, "I'm fine, Van." She looked up at her friend, "Have you any idea when the men will be home?"
Vanora raised her eyebrow, so that was it, "No, lass. Anxious for your man, are you?"
Try as she may, Vanora had never been able to get the full story of where exactly Gawain had been for the weeks he was gone and just how he had found Tristan's younger sister there. But, she was a shrewd woman and had her own ideas as to the couple's true relationship, the rest was unimportant. She saw the bond between the two and knew Kirra began to get jumpy about three days after the fair knight had left, only to calm when he was again home. Her anxiety had come early this time.
Kirra rolled her eyes, "Oh, Vanora. I am just more worried then usual – not about Gawain, he'll be fine. I don't know who I'm worried about. And I haven't gotten over Arthur forbidding me to go along." She spread her hand open in a gesture of frustration, "I feel like I should be there with them. It's just … different this time."
Vanora touched the younger woman's shoulder, "Wherever they've gone, lass, it's no place for a lady. Arthur was just tryin' to protect you."
"I know, I didn't really want to go, but I can't help feeling that I should have, for whatever reason. Even after all this time, it still annoys me to have a man make my decisions for me. You would think I would be used to it by this time."
Vanora felt for the miserable young woman. It was hard when the men went away and one was left to wonder if they would ever return. The feeling never eased up, no matter how many times they went out. In fact, every time it worsened. It was only her responsibilities to her children and her job at the tavern that kept Vanora from ripping out her hair with worry each and every time Bors was gone more then two days.
She poured Kirra a full cup of the potent drink she carried; even though she knew the woman never touched the stuff, "Drink up, girl."
"You know I don't drink, Van." Kirra said looking up at her friend.
Vanora smiled devilishly, "It will help you sleep. Just look what it does for the men."
Kirra returned her smile, "True, but then they always wake with a horrible hangover and I feel as though I have one now."
"Well, then, a little ale won't hurt." Vanora persisted.
Kirra chuckled, "Your logic's not very sound, Van." Then she surprised them both by downing the drink in one long gulp. Her stomach roiled violently and she hoped she'd keep it down. "Happy now?"
Vanora nodded as she stood and shooed her off to bed, still chuckling at the sight of her friend's face as she finished her cup and set it down triumphantly. She hadn't the heart to tell her Kirra that she wasn't the only one who knew herbs and what she had drank was merely well-watered wine mixed with a few calming ones. Ones that Vanora had known Kirra needed from the moment she saw the healer walk into the tavern.
Kirra fell asleep almost as soon as she laid her head down for the second time that night, but her dreams were fitful and dark. Dreams she didn't remember when she woke, and was glad for it.
She tried to go about her regular duties of cleaning her House, gathering herbs and restocking her supplies, but her heart was just not into it. She felt distracted and gave up once she nearly chopped her finger off preparing herbs for a tincture.
As she stopped the bleeding and wrapped her finger, the feelings of foreboding that she had been experiencing increased to the point where she could bear it no longer. Her heart was in her throat and its rapid pounding was all she could hear. Making up her mind, she locked up her House and strode off to the tavern. She needed to let Vanora know where she was off to in case her feelings came to naught and the men returned before she did.
Sticking only her head inside the building, Kirra caught Vanora's eye and gave a little wave, pointing in the direction she planned to go. She turned sharply and left before the woman had a chance to stop her.
Entering the near empty stable, she passed by Fate and went straight to Jin's stall. The little mare was faster and had greater endurance then Fate. Kirra quickly slipped Jin's bridle over her head and led her from her stall.
The mare seemed as edgy as her mistress, snorting and shivering as if she were covered in flies. Kirra took note of this and tried to even her breathing as she pulled herself onto the mare's bare back, not bothering with a saddle. As she nudged Jin forward she saw the man left in charge when Jols was away. Darin had an angry expression on his face as he stepped between the horse and the exit.
"Arthur left instructions that you were not to leave, Lady." He said angrily.
Figures.
"Get out of my way, Darin, or I'll have Jin trample you."
The man could see that the mare was nervous. She was pulling at the bit and dancing chaotically. Kirra was having a hard time holding her back. Darin raised his arms and spoke soothingly to the horse as he neared her hoping to get a hold of her bridle.
Kirra shook her head, "I warned you." and she loosened her hold on the reins.
Jin, feeling the slackening, took it as permission to bolt, which she did, barely sidestepping the stableman. Darin voiced his displeasure, as he leapt from the horse's hooves, in a string of curses which had Kirra grinning humorlessly.
It didn't take Jin long to leave the safety of the stable and reach the road. People scattered as they saw the mare coming and pulled their children to safety, cursing the rider and her reckless behavior. All were ignored by Kirra as she approached her last and final hurdle: the gate.
As she pulled Jin to a prancing stop, she felt sure that if Arthur had left instructions for Darin he would have left the same for the soldiers guarding the gate. But to her surprise the men, merely shrugged and opened the gate, deciding she was not worth their time.
Kirra paused for a moment to feel from which direction the tug was coming from. Honing in, Kirra turned Jin west and gave the mare her head. Soldiers on the wall watched in surprise as the woman clung to her mount and both seemed to fly up the road.
Kirra alternately let Jin run as she would and then would slow her to a walk, which the mare only just tolerated, stamping and fighting the woman on her back. They ran for miles with Kirra pausing only to make sure she was still heading in the right direction. It was noon before they stopped at the crest of a particularly tall hill and looked down on a small party of riders surrounding one single open wagon. The caravan was moving slowly, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing to Kirra's thinking. She immediately recognized Arthur's white stallion at the head.
Perusing the line, her stormy gaze stopped at the wagon, a gray horse and a blood bay were tied to the back. Squinting, she looked harder and realized that she could make out only dark-haired men on horseback. That meant that Gawain and Gareth were the men currently occupying the wagon. Kirra's heart gave a nasty little jerk as she gave Jin her head for the last time on this journey, a litany of prayers for a miracle running through her mind barely heard over the pounding of her heart.
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Tristan saw the horse and rider on the hill and started forward to ascertain whether it was an enemy. No one knew where they had gone and so he was shocked to recognize Jin with a disheveled and wild-eyed Kirra clinging shoeless and without a saddle to the spotted mare's back. Tristan frowned when it became obvious that Kirra knew something was wrong. His sister did not so much as slow down as he hailed her, but deftly guided her sweating horse around him and continued down the line. Arthur was also completely ignored when he stepped forward.
The men turned and watched as Kirra pulled Jin to an abrupt stop when she reached the wagon, her racing heart slowing and fierce eyes softening only when she knew that it was not Gawain who was injured.
He, instead, held his brother's head in his lap, looking up at her with such a look of helpless sorrow that Kirra found herself gritting her teeth and blinking away tears. Gareth was still and gray. His breath came in uneven, ragged gasps and Kirra noticed that Gawain held a blood soaked rag that he used to wipe blood from his brother's lips when the need arose.
Kirra jumped from Jin's back and gathered her skirts before climbing in the wagon bed to kneel beside Gareth. She brushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead and received no stirring. There was darkness surrounding him and she could feel nothing of him anywhere near.
Biting her lip she peeled back the cloaks that covered him and carefully cut away the soaked bandages and closed her eyes to shut out the ghastly sight of his wounds. He had been slashed deeply from hip to hip, a cut designed to tear into his insides and cause them to spill from his body.
Someone, Dagonet no doubt, had done the best he could and stitched the wound closed but Kirra knew that no matter what she did from this point on, Gareth was beyond help. The internal organs had damaged and were leaking fluids. He would die of toxemia before the actual wound killed him. He had probably been injured further when the men lifted him into the wagon and moved him in attempt to get him home -- to her.
Sitting back on her heels she looked at Gawain. His eyes were tormented and she knew that he would blame himself until his last breath for not being able to save his younger brother, for not forcing Arthur to allow Kirra to accompany them. But in the midst of his pain and torment, she saw a hope that caused her stomach to sink. He was certain that now she was here Gareth would be all right.
"I don't think I can do anything, Gawain." Kirra said softly.
His voice was thick with unshed tears, "Just try."
And Kirra knew, looking into his pleading eyes that she had to try something, anything, even if it were against her better judgment.
Pulling out her little silver knife, Kirra cut her palm and made an identical cut on Gareth's, glancing once again at Gawain she pressed the wounds together, closed her eyes and softly called to the man lying still and silent beside her. Immediately she was immersed in the same pain that Gareth was feeling and it was such that she lost consciousness.
As Kirra had learned, names have awesome power and the exchange of blood -- the ultimate life-force, invokes that power beyond measure; power she had been unsure as to how to handle until now. She heard softly whispered instructions and gave herself over to them.
She suddenly found herself in a dark forest. The trees were tall and had grown together overhead, their branches intertwining to create a thick canopy which the sun could not penetrate. The trunks of the ancient trees were massive and so close together that it appeared Kirra was in a huge tunnel. She stood unsure for a moment, feeling a merciless tug that drew her on.
In front of her, at the end of the dark forest she could see the sun shining bright in a green meadow and it beckoned to her with warmth and light. The heaviness of her heart and the pain she felt melted from her in the heat from that light and she forgot everything in her desire to be in that glorious light. It was only when she saw Gareth walking slowly and cautiously ahead of her that she remembered why she was in that dark place.
"Gareth?" she called hesitantly. Her voice was strangely muffled.
The man turned, "Kirra?" He asked in surprise "You're not supposed to be here."
Kirra shrugged, "I've come to get you."
Gareth glanced at Kirra and then turned his face toward a warm meadow. They were close enough to be able to hear voices beckoning excitedly.
"I am not going back, Kirra. I am tired of that life. I want warmth and peace. I need to be here, with them." He looked toward the light and took another step forward.
Kirra, too, felt the tugging. It was growing and she groaned at the energy she had to exert to ignore it. She placed her hand on Gareth's arm, stopping him for the second time, "What of Gawain?"
Gareth turned and took her hand. His was surprisingly warm and solid. It was not what Kirra would have expected from one on the way to the other side.
"He has you, little sister. He will survive."
"And Galahad?" she protested stubbornly. "Who's he got once you're gone?"
Gareth looked deep into Kirra's eyes, amusement shining from his warm brown eyes, "All of my fellows have one another. Deaths are hard, but expected and a part of the life they live." He explained patiently, not including himself in the statement.
It was then that Kirra knew he had to go. The tugging was too great, he felt it stronger then she did, but he was supposed to follow it as Kirra was not. She felt a sudden tightening in her stomach and gritted her teeth against the pull. She nodded to Gareth and let go of his hand.
"I have to go. I can't stay here much longer. I can feel Gawain and the others calling to us." She said sadly. "Go. I will explain to the others."
Gareth grinned and she saw the dimple in his cheek one last time before he kissed her once on each cheek in farewell. "Something whispers to me that we will meet again, little sister. I think my death was to be."
Kirra clasped her brother-in-law to her once more in a fierce embrace, "Then you are probably correct. Who knows what the goddess has in store for each of us." She stepped back and released him, watching as he disappeared into the light.
She woke weak and trembling in the back of the wagon. She was almost as gray as Gareth. Tristan held her, but it was Gawain's eyes she sought first. She shook her head a little at the question she saw and fought the consequent wave of nausea. A muscle tightened in his jaw.
"Why?" He asked harshly.
Kirra licked her lips and struggled to speak through a parched throat, "It was his time."
"No." Gawain growled, slamming a fist against the wagon's bed, "He was too young. It shouldn't have been like this, not for Gareth."
"Not for any of you, but it is," Kirra stated in a tired voice. She fought to gain her equilibrium as she slowly pulled away from Tristan and sat up. "He wanted to go, Gawain. He accepted it, said it was to be."
Gawain glared at her for a moment, his eyes hard, "Why would the goddess bother to bring you here if you cannot save him?"
The silence was deafening as Kirra's breath left her and she recoiled as if she had been slapped. She placed a gentle hand on Tristan's arm when she felt her brother tense. She could well imagine the expression on his face. Most likely it matched, to some extent, the shock and outrage mingled with grief on the faces of the gathered men.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Kirra shook her head to silence him. Gawain's remark cut deep and she felt the out-welling of pain from it, but she knew he was grieving and did not mean it as it sounded. Or rather she prayed he did not mean it as it had sounded.
Looking down, Kirra wearily tucked a tendril of wild hair behind her ear, "I do not know why I was sent here, only that I cannot force anyone to stay." She looked up, "Had it been you in his place, I would have let even you go."
Kirra rose and slipped unsteadily off the back to the wagon. The men were quiet as they watched her trudge, barefoot, to her strange little horse, pausing only to gather enough strength to pull herself onto the mare's back. She was finished and had no idea how she could stay on Jin's back long enough to reach the fort. Her heart was heavy and hot tears were burning in her throat and behind her eyes. Guilt and fatigue wore her down and Kirra prayed that in time Gawain would be able to forgive her for being unable to force Gareth back.
Once settled she looked up and caught Tristan's eye, there was no blame visible in those dark depths only worry and she wondered how she would have felt if it had been her brother instead of Gawain's. Would she too have felt betrayed? She avoided looking at the other men and turned Jin's head toward home. Not even Arthur said a word as she nudged the weary mare and left the small party, eager only to be back in her room, alone, under her blankets and sobbing.
She arrived at the fort just before nightfall, ahead of the others, and passed her reins to Darin who had been waiting for her angry that she had disobeyed Arthur and nearly ran him over to do it. One look at her downcast form and he wisely held his tongue and led the mare away for a much needed grooming and feed.
Kirra noticed nothing as she made her way to her dark room and threw herself down on her bed to weep the tears she had been fighting since she had walked away from the little wagon.
She wept for Gawain and Gareth, for her brother and for all of them, living and gone, but mostly she wept for the innocence that had been lost and the harshness of life that had replaced it. Kirra cried until there were no more tears left to cry and she was left hollow and hot. Only then, when mind-numbing exhaustion swept over her did she sleep, curled into a miserable ball, fully dressed and on a wet, tear stained pillow.
Hours later, Kirra awoke. She was still weary and doubted she would ever feel normal again, but knew there was something left she had to do. Quietly she gathered her bag of herbs and needles and left her room. The corridor was cold and silent. It would seem that the men were all asleep, as she knew they had to of returned shortly after her. She made her way stealthily to the Great Hall, where the Round Table lay and where she knew Gareth's body would be laid as it awaited burial.
She found the room unguarded, and why shouldn't it be? No one would have the impudence to desecrate the body of a fallen warrior and expect to get away with it. Kirra cautiously pushed the door open. The room was deserted except for the still body lying in the center covered in white linen and lit by the torches burning at the walls. The men had been too weary and heartsick to have done little more then lay him in the room and cover him.
Kirra ducked under the table and approached her brother-in-law's body. She had no idea what she was doing there, what had possessed her to go there, but she knew she had to do this last service, for everyone.
There was a large bucket of water waiting as if just for this purpose and Kirra carefully chose several herbs to crush and sprinkle over the still water. The fragrance was refreshing and calming. Then gently, with tears streaming down her face, she re-stitched the wounds with her small, fine work and cleansed Gareth's body of the remaining blood and dirt.
Instinctively, she crooned an ancient chant, asking the gods to take the warrior to them and allow him rest with his loved ones. In the unfaltering melody could be heard the life story of the man, his strengths, his weaknesses, but mostly his honor and loyalty and love for those he considered his friends. Kirra dressed him in clothing she had filched from his room and kissed his cheeks before again covering him with the winding sheet.
She glanced back once at the still form before closing the door and returning to her room. In all her time spent with Gareth, she never once took note of the dark shadow sitting in one dark corner of the room, watching. Not long after she had left, he pulled himself to his feet and wearily followed after.
Kirra crawled into her cold bed without worrying over a fire. She was exhausted beyond anything that she had ever felt before and lonely. She was just drifting off when the door opened and Gawain crept into the room. He stripped himself of his clothing and lay down next to her. Kirra did not move, pretending to be asleep until the man reached for her and crushed her to him, burying his face in her hollow of her throat. Gawain's arms tightened around her until Kirra imagined she could hear her ribs cracking.
"Forgive me," He said, sounding lost, broken.
Kirra shifted to allow for more breathing room and wrapped her own arms around him, cradling him to her as if he were a small child.
"I can do nothing but." She whispered and began to hum the same old lullaby her mother and grandmother had once sung for her when she was a child. It had an almost immediate effect, but not the one that Kirra had expected.
She initially thought that shock had driven Gawain to seizing, but what she thought was shaking, she soon realized to be deep, wracking sobs of the most heart-rending kind and Kirra was unable to keep the tears from falling from her eyes as Gawain wrapped himself around her and clung as if she were his only sure rock in a whirlwind of grief.
She lay still, offering the only kind of comfort she could until the storm blew itself out and Gawain lay still, asleep. She kept vigil through the night, moving only to run a soothing hand down his back when his breath caught in a silent sob.
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The burial was a sad affair, the first -- and hopefully last, to take place since Kirra had arrived. She stood, empty and dry-eyed, between Tristan and Gawain and as she looked around the tight circle of remaining knights, she wondered who would be next and if she could handle another such loss, even knowing what she did of the afterlife.
Arthur spoke a few words, meant to comfort, but Kirra doubted that they did anything. He looked older somehow, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and she knew at times like this he must hate being the leader of men. When he was finished speaking and the last of the mourners had drifted away to whatever comforts they could find, Gawain at last turned to leave.
He had said his good-byes and though he would visit often, he wished to be elsewhere now. Kirra, though, pulled away from him and approached the fresh mound. She had brought a small twist of early flowers and herbs.
All through the brief ceremony the light fresh scent could be smelled floating on the breeze. She knelt for a moment at the head of the grave and whispered something lost on the wind before placing the flowers on the rich earth. She rose and brushed the clinging dirt from her skirts and rejoined Gawain, slipping her small, comforting hand in his. He never asked what it was she told Gareth that day and she never told him.
