A Life Less Ordinary: Chapter 15
By Sulia Serafine
[12-17-00. This is a Protector of the Small fanfic; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE (I. E. cursing, swearing…). You have been warned!]
Owen and Keladry sat watching the dying light in the sky. Neither of them spoke. Owen put his arm around her shoulders. He shuddered inwardly when he felt how cold she was. "Do you want to go inside?"
She glanced at him briefly. "Not really. We can if you want to."
"No, that's okay. You just seem a little chilled. Here, take my jacket." He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She gave him an appreciative smile and returned her gaze to the horizon. Owen opened his mouth awkwardly. He wanted to start a conversation. She always loved their conversations because they were so full and fascinating.
"Perhaps I can entrance her with it all over again," he thought longingly. "She's slipping away. Gods, I don't want her to. She's not the perfect match for me, but I don't care. She's worth it." The young man sighed and hunched his shoulders. Keladry looked over at him, as if finally seeing him for the first time that day. Her head was clouded with so many things.
"I'm sorry," she thought and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll try to be better at this. I have to be. I want to have… have a nice life." She bit her tongue to keep from making any sort of frustrated noise.
All of a sudden, a few buildings in the distance blew up. Owen and Keladry fell backwards off the bench they were sitting on. They landed in a pile of old wheat bags and hay. Owen scrambled over to Keladry. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she responded. "What's going on?"
Another burst of rock and flame went up in the air as another building exploded. They threw their arms over their heads to protect themselves from the falling debris. People screamed and ran in the streets. A peace-keeper waved his arms trying to gather everyone's attention. "We're under attack! The Mirans are here! Escape to the inner district! Get out of here!"
An arrow ripped through the air and struck the peace-keeper in the chest. He grabbed the shaft for a moment, staring at it in disbelief. Then his legs buckled beneath him and he fell dead to the ground. Keladry stared at his body, the blood pouring out over the street. "Gods, no. Not here."
"We have to escape!" Owen cried, reaching for her hand. She looked at him as if he were a stranger. "Keladry! Come on!"
"We have to get our stuff," she protested, running inside.
"There's no time! They're catapulting flaming cannonballs at us! There are soldiers invading the outer districts!"
Keladry shook her head as she stuffed most of Owen's jewels into a sack and food as well. "Get some blankets, clothing--anything! I'll get my sword from Rodger's…"
"Are you crazy? We can't fight! Let's go, Kel, please!"
She dropped the bag. Keladry grabbed his shoulders. "Do you trust me?"
He tried to ignore the chaos going on behind him through the doorway. He gulped. "You know I do."
"Then trust me when I tell you to run with this," she shoved the sack into his arms, "and get to the inner district and allow me get my sword. I'm not letting them take this city. Not this one." She examined his face. There was so much anxiety there. And fear, too-- not from the invasion of the Miran army, but… for her. She cupped his face. "Everything's going to be fine. I'm not dying until I get married. I'll just fetch my sword and meet you later."
He grinned despite himself. "If you say so. Be careful." With that, he kissed her on the cheek and ran out the door. He shouted that he loved her as he ran, and if she didn't come back, he was going after her. She shook her head.
"I'm insane," she mumbled as she ran out into the street, determined to get to the weapons dealer she worked for. People ran past her, holding crying children and whatever possessions they could grab. The world around her crumbled as the ground shook. She pushed onward and gritted her teeth. She could see the tunics of the Mirans in the distance. Keladry would always know what they would look like. After all, she had seen them destroy one city after another, enslaving and capturing the good people of this world. Before, she didn't think she had the guts to stand up to them alone, after her near death experience years ago. The thought still held when she helped that village purge itself of the regiment of Mirans-- despite the act she put on.
But this was much different. This was now her city. This was where Owen lived, and where she wanted to live as well. They weren't going to take away this one chance of happiness-- not if she could do anything about it.
"Rodger! Rodger! Wait!" She spotted the weapons dealer sprinting out of his home and screaming to his brother the blacksmith. "It's me! I need weapons if I'm going to fight!"
Rodger reached her and hugged her. "You're safe! Don't fight, Keladry. Even with your skills, you can't do this alone. If you must have them, take the weapons and escape with us. We can fight them later!"
She wanted to argue, but they would not let her. The brothers allowed her to run in and drag out some weapons, as well as her own sword. They fled with the rest of the citizens to the inner district. The sky became black, filled with the smoke of burning homes. The sounds of sobbing people distressed her. It was like a war.
Wait, she corrected herself. It was a war. Her war. This thing with the Mirans had been that way since the beginning of her quest. Why did the two Tortallians not fight for so long? Wasn't it in the codes of chivalry that they were to defend the small and weak? Instead, they stayed out of the war and wanted a way home. Why did she lose herself for so many years?
"This is our home. We aren't Tortallians anymore," she thought as she stopped right outside the inner district's gates. Rodger and his brother went back to grab her by the arms and drag her inside. "That has to be why were thrown into this world. Don't you see it, Rodger? Collin? We were destined to fight this war, not go home. Fate dealt it… Let me go! I have to fight!"
"She's gone crazy!" Rodger shrieked as the two middle-aged brothers finally brought her within the district's walls. "We have to find Owen. Where is he?"
"It's why I've been so empty for so long," she thought, still entranced with the destruction her vision beheld. "I wasn't missing love, or strength of mind and will. It was the fight… the glorious fight."
The ground shook once more as a ball of flame passed over their heads and crashed into a part of the wall. Keladry broke free of the two men and ran toward it, where a few children were knocked to the ground. She helped them up and ushered them away from the flaming mess. After, she left them and climbed up a ladder to join some peace-keepers from where they stood on battlements.
"What are you doing? Get down, miss, you'll be hurt!" a young officer exclaimed
"You're going to need my help," she said calmly and stared into the man's green eyes. "Don't tell me to get down."
He swallowed nervously, understanding exactly what sort of person he was talking to. "Right. Talk to Captain Julius."
She nodded and strode across the battlements to a man whose tunic crest identified him as the captain. She caught a glimpse of destruction from the corner of her eye. Beyond the wall was anarchy. Chaos. War.
And she would fight it... to the death.
~~
It was early morning. Owen had walked around in circles for hours trying to find Keladry. His pounding heart finally resumed its normal, steady beat when he spotted her talking to one of the city's soldiers. "Kel! Kel, you're okay!"
She looked up as he approached. There was something different about her, but he dismissed it from his mind. She put on a fake expression of relief. "Oh, you're okay. I can't believe I forgot to look for you."
"Forgot?!"
"I didn't mean it like that," she apologized. "I was so caught up in helping people trying to get inside and talking to the peace-keepers to see if I could fight among their ranks."
"You're going to fight with the peace-keepers?" he said in a squeaky, high pitched voice. He cleared his throat. "But…"
"Yes. It's not like I don't know how to fight, remember?"
He stared at her for at least one second before he hugged her. "I don't care, anymore. Do whatever you want. Be whatever you want. I don't mind that you're showing more emotion toward this war than you are with me. As long as you are showing this beautiful emotion of yours."
She sighed. "Thank you for understanding." He grinned at her. Keladry knew something was suspicious. She raised one eyebrow. "What are you going to do?"
He shrugged. "Fight beside you."
"You can't!"
His grin widened. "Now what was it that Joren always called you? Miss Hypocrite?"
She reddened. He knew her too well. It seemed wrong. After all, their city was under attack and here they were grinning at each other. "Stop that. Okay, we'll fight this together. Don't you die on me."
He kissed her. "I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. Now, what did the captain say?"
"The mayor and the other high officials have decided that we are going to retaliate sometime before noon. Here, take this sword. You know how to use one, right?"
"I'll manage. Just stick me somewhere near the back," he muttered.
"I wouldn't let you die," she whispered and hugged him. "You mean too much to me, and besides, who would talk to me endlessly for hours and hours?"
"You could train a parrot…"
"Not even one of those special birds could talk as long as you."
"Should I be taking that as a compliment or an insult?" Owen wondered as he followed her to get some armor. The young man looked up at the sky. It was getting darker by the second, but the smoke and ash upon the winds furthered the effect. He could almost swear he heard the wind spirits moan as he crossed the square and went inside, where the smoke did not follow.
~~
Joren lifted the ax up in the air. He brought it down on the wood, which split neatly into two pieces and fell off the stump. Then he reached down and placed another, ready to be chopped. The youth took a second to wipe the sweat off his brow and look at the sky. Somewhere in the midst of that vast sky, there was a flaw. He put down his ax and continued to stare at it.
"Why don't you paint a picture? It'll last longer," Egavar remarked as he came outside. Joren blinked and glanced at him.
"Oh, sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, friend. What were you thinking about?"
He shrugged. "I honestly don't know. My head's a mess."
The Nodestrum nodded. "Hmm… Well, come inside. You can have your lunch, and then sleep off the rest of the afternoon in the tree."
Joren arranged the timber into stacks, then put away the ax. He trudged inside, stretching his arms over his head. The older man set soup on the table. "Why are you dressed up?"
"Going into town," he simply replied.
"Oh, okay." He frowned. "Are you getting supplies, or is this something else?"
Egavar looked at him sharply. "You don't need to know, Joren. Just have your soup."
Startled by his friend's uncharacteristic hostility, he abruptly sat down and began to consume the soup. Egavar grabbed a tiny bag of coins off the table and left without so much as a 'goodbye'. Joren stared after him. "What's wrong with this picture? Egavar, being cold and stern? Going to town and not telling me why?"
He wanted to follow, but he was apprehensive that Egavar would catch him and cast some of his more powerful spells on the youth. So, he washed his bowl after lunch. Then, he went outside to sleep in his favorite tree.
~~
Swords clashed.
The fire-- Gods, how it burned. The heated air is filled with smoke…
And cries of death.
Soldiers. Miran soldiers. Why are they so bent on killing and conquering everyone?
Do they not know that sooner or later, someone would rise against them and destroy evil?
That's the way the story goes. Doesn't it always happen that way?
Blood. Fire. Smoke. There it goes again.
Arrows in the sky pelt the reinforced walls. It will crumble soon. I pity those who are still left quivering in the shelters.
People are going to die. Innocent souls are going to be sent up to their makers. It isn't fair. They have to reach within themselves and fight. They have to be taught how to find courage. They mustn't believe they will not survive. If soldiers did that, their concentration would be tainted by the ugly fear. A soldier would slip up, just like others before him who could not handle war.
Just like him. I see him. He's there, not too far. No, wait. It is far. I can never get to him. Why is he there?
The sword is crashing down upon him. I couldn't reach him. Gods, no. No, no, no. This wasn't happening. Why can't I get through the battle? Let me through! Get out of my way! He needs my help before it's too l….
He calls to me. Across the distance, my greatest companion is in danger.
His eyes. His face. I'm never going to see them again, am I?
Damn you, Gods. I forsake you for doing this to me.
Damn you, Fate. You either bring an empire to glory, or a man to the pits of an inferno.
And I damn myself. For living here and now. I scream.
"OWEN!"
~~
Joren fell out of the tree. He cried out as he hit the ground and immediately righted himself. "What the… Gods, no. What was that? Is it… Keladry?"