A Life Less Ordinary: Chapter 16
By Sulia Serafine
[12-20-00. 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!
P.S. No, I'm not getting bored with this story. It's going to be around for a while. In truly great stories, not everything is perfect in the sense that there are a set group of heroes, they struggle, and all of them live after defeating their enemy. Something has to go wrong. There's always loss, right? Please, don't be upset with me. I want this story to be true to everything I believe is most realistic. I'm not sure if I can get another chapter out until after Christmas, so happy holidays and thanks for making my story a success.]
When Egavar came back from town, Joren was packed and saddling his horse. There was a fierce look on the youth's face that let the Nodestrum know that something was horribly wrong. "Joren?"
He looked up. "Oh, you're back. Sorry, but I have to go… Something's happened."
The older man approached him with a hand over his own mouth. "You mean, Keladry?"
Joren closed his eyes and bit his lip. "I don't know. I just felt something really bad course through my veins and I knew I had to go. Do you want to come?"
"If you don't know what it is, where will you go?"
"To her, I guess. Best place to start, right? Go pack and say goodbye to your cottage again. We're in for another road trip," he said in a sarcastic voice to drown out the troubled part of his mind. "And this time, bring earplugs so you don't have to complain about my snoring."
Egavar went inside. He moved to take off his cloak, but he realized he was going to leave anyway, and left it on. "I don't see how the boy can joke around at a time like this. Maybe it just comforts him," he thought. "No matter. We have to leave as soon as possible."
He packed all the necessary items and met Joren outside within five minutes.
"Are you sure that's all you're going to do? Anything else?"
"The cottage can take care of itself. The woods can, too. After all, this is my enchanted forest," Egavar shrugged. "Let's go."
"Right. Old Magic… Enchantment," Joren murmured as he saddled up. "Enchantment has just made my life so much easier… yeah, right." He rolled his eyes.
They rode for a week. Joren was so pressed to get there, he hardly allowed them to stop. This cut days off their time, and although tired and weary, they finally arrived at the city where Keladry now lived-- well, what was left of it, anyway.
The cobblestones in the street were overturned. Buildings that Joren remembered from his time there had collapsed, or burned. The charred remains of other structures and-- to their surprise-- people as well littered the streets. Wounded men and women sorted through the debris to recover objects, or corpses to bury alongside the skirts of the city. Ash and soot covered the faces, so that they all looked alike-- dark lifeless dolls jerkily moving along as if someone had strings attached to their limbs. One man was without an arm.
"What happened here?" Egavar asked an old man.
"The Mirans, that's what," the old man bitterly replied. "Please, please. I need food for my grandchildren. They burnt down everything. My son and daughter-in-law are dead!"
Egavar quickly gave him some of their supply. The old man's desperate plea frightened him. No doubt, many of the citizens were reduced to sobbing, pitiful wretches. He led his horse over to Joren. "We have to find Keladry. She may be… may be…"
"Don't say it," Joren hissed while grabbing Egavar's collar. He let go and took a deep breath. "I can see the inn from here. It's mostly intact. Go to the inn and, see if she's there. I'll go to Owen's place. Stay there until I come for you."
He nodded and walked away. Joren nervously reached for the hilt of his sword. Why, he didn't know. The fighting was obviously over. Peace-keepers wandered around the city, spectral soldiers whose minds were still battling evil. Some of the more 'healthier' ones were busy helping the citizens. Joren wanted to fight. He wanted to slit throats for what had conspired here. And if possible, he wanted the blood of the Miran soldiers to flood the Miran Empire so the emperor drowned in it.
After walking solemnly for minutes, he arrived at Owen's jewelry shop. The brilliant windows were smashed. Shards of glass were scattered across the ground. The door was missing, and the walls of the outside smeared with blood. He swallowed hard, for his throat was dry and scratchy. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. "Hello?"
There was movement. He moved back. Aware of his cowardice, he set his mind and boldly strode into the shop. "Gods! Kel!"
She sat on a stool-- one that she recovered from the rubble next door. Her face was smeared with blood and dirt, almost like some primitive animal. Her clothing was torn and dirty. There were numerous dents in the armor recklessly discarded on the floor. Her sword lied on the floor, still covered in blood. Keladry would never let her sword stay like that. She would have cleaned it by then. Her eyes were directed at a jewel she missed before the battle, and had not given to Owen. In fact, the sack of jewels and possessions stayed at her side.
Joren reached out to touch her. Then he pulled his hand back. She was untouchable. With that blank face, staring at the jewel like a zombie, her mind was not with her. It was somewhere miles away.
"Joren, you're here," she whispered without looking at him. He bristled. Her dead voice startled him beyond imagination. It was like she was a corpse herself.
"Kel, what happened? Are you okay?"
She finally turned to regard him with icy unfeeling eyes. "The Mirans attacked us for days… I… I mean, we fought. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen. And he wandered away during battle. I couldn't rescue him. He was killed by a sword driven through his chest."
The lack of emotion in her words made him shiver. He slowly walked over and joined her at staring at the jewel. "Owen…? I'm sorry. I know how much he meant to you."
"Meant to me?" she asked with a rising inflection. "You said I didn't love him and I was substituting him for Neal."
He winced inwardly. "I know. I didn't mean it."
"Yes, you did. And by the way, Joren, stop trying to play it off. I don't want your sympathy. Say what you think. That's the best thing you can ever do for me." Now there was emotion in her voice. It was hatred.
"I know no matter how many times I say I'm sorry that you won't forgive me. And I deserve it," he said. He ran his hand through his hair like he always did when he was nervous. "But, please. Let's get out of here. There's nothing more either of us can do." He paused. "And Egavar's waiting for us at the inn."
"I'll join you later," she replied. He examined her skeptically.
"If you say so." With that, he walked out. When he was gone, she looked up again and watched his retreating form.
"I forgive you."
~~
"The armies have moved on to the capital. I'm going there to fight." It was the first thing out of her mouth when she walked into the inn. Egavar's jaw dropped.
"What? Are you crazy?" he shouted.
"Maybe," she said. She felt like she had said it before…
"You'll be killed," Joren said. His lips curled into the beginning of a sneer. "Don't do it. It's pointless."
"I have to try. And if I get killed, that's fine."
"Fine? Fine?!" Egavar jumped up from his seat. "You want to die? Look, I know you're sad about your betrothed dying, but… but… you can't do that! You have so much to live for!"
"Do I? I don't want love. I don't want peace of mind. I was born to fight. That's why we're here. We're never going home."
Joren slammed his mug down on the table. "Stop it, damn it! I'm tired of that attitude. If I had known you were going to grow up to be such a depressed maniac who doesn't know the value of her own stupid life, then I would have killed you right there and then! What the hell happened to the Keladry we know?"
"She died."
There was silence. Egavar sat back down and stared at his hands. Joren looked back at his mug and took a tiny sip. The conversation was officially ended by the two whispered words. Keladry continued to stand like a statue, only moving her eyes to watch for any reaction her two comrades may have. She finally gave up and sat down.
"When are you going?" Joren asked after ten minutes.
"In the dark of night. I won't be spotted."
"You will if there are Kodestrums," Egavar pointed out. His voice was still filled with outrage, but he settled for clenching and unclenching his fists. "Sweet Nodh willing, you'd make it as far as the province's border."
"Fine. Then come with me," she shrugged. Impassivity wavered in her eyes.
"We'll both go," Joren said. "I don't trust you. You'll try to get yourself killed out there and your parents will undoubtedly have my head when I return to Tortall."
"I promise not to if you stop speaking about Tortall, the land we're never seeing again."
Joren opened his mouth, but Egavar kicked his shin. The blonde glared at the Nodestrum. "Fine with me."
"Fine," Keladry agreed. She left the table.
"I can't believe this," Egavar shook his head. "She's so…"
Joren nodded. The older man didn't need to finish his sentence. Keladry of Mindelan was lost to them. And as much as he didn't want to admit it…
It hurt.
~~
Chaos.
It was the destruction of Owen's city all over again. This time, there were more soldiers on each side. This time, more souls were sent up to the Gods for their judgment. And this time, Joren kept an eye on Keladry. When they charged the enemy line at the break of dawn, he realized how skilled a fighter she had become. If she got home, maybe she could take the tests for knighthood and fulfill her dream anyhow. He certainly didn't want to. Being a mercenary for the last few years convinced him that once he got home, it was the peaceful life for him.
Blood splattered across his face. He jerked his head away, blinking. The corners of his vision became red. He moved off to the side, constantly moving so he would be a hard target. There he wiped the blood from his eyes. He realized he had fallen behind from the charging men. He couldn't see Keladry. "Damn! Where is she?"
He fought his way past several fighting lines of friend and enemy. He called out to his partner, hoping she would answer. Joren was forced to fight soldiers until he couldn't take any more physical onslaught. Just as he was about to collapse, the Mirans withdrew. He gasped for air and steadied his beating heart.
Men and women and children were dead.
The city was already destroyed. It all mattered now on who lived and who died, not the condition of the city.
"Regroup, men!" a captain called to his regiment. Joren ignored him and ran through the lines, searching for Keladry. He couldn't find her. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
~~
He didn't see her until days later. Egavar joined the city's resident Kodestrums to battle enemy magi. He didn't see his friend much, but was ensured his well being. The battle of the capital was still on. He couldn't believe there was anyone left to continue the brutal fight. Joren himself was weary of it all.
He wandered around, the battle having paused itself for men to feed and sleep. The area he was in was littered with corpses. No one fought there anymore because of the difficult footing. Joren could slip in the blood that seeped in the ground. It was that terrible.
Joren was also exhausted. He wanted to lie down and slip into the eternal sleep promised to him.
"Mithros, not yet. Please," he begged his native god. He wanted to search for his partner and find her alive. He wanted to go home. He wanted to lay in his family's fields and dream about his future. It was supposed to be a bright and glorious future. Not filled with war. He could still have that future. He still had the chance to find the Truth Stone, find a labafret, and force it to take him home.
The only problem was that Joren was dying.
There was a wound over his heart. Yes, he was quite literally heartbroken. The wound was not deep enough to cause immediate death. But that, and other wounds all over puncturing vital organs ensured that he would suffer a long and agonizing death. After realizing this, he found he could suppress his pain so it did not bother him. Besides, he had other things on his mind-- like his family.
The Tortallian realized he was never nice to his own family. The thought made him feel shame and guilt. He had stopped kissing his mother on the cheek after he turned eight years old. What a bully he had been back then. His life was wasted. And yet, he was grateful for every good thing to ever happen to him. He had no problem with dying. Everyone died eventually.
Yes, eventually. Kelady and Egavar would die eventually. The only two people he had ever called friends.
A few minutes after the last thought, he saw her. Well, he saw her sword first, but he recognized the hilt. There was a yellow dye stain on the leather of the hilt that came from the women living next door to them at the inn. She had been dying Keladry a dress although she knew the young lady didn't wear dresses.
"Keladry?" he croaked. There was no movement. He dropped to his knees beside her prone form. Her body was warm, but he was too scared to check for a pulse. Blood coagulated in her hair, her clothing, and on her wounds. There was a gash across her belly. The armor was absent. The chain mail's metal links were broken.
But her face was peaceful. With a shaky hand, he reached forward and wiped her face with his sleeve.
"It's almost like she's sleeping," he whispered and moved to lie down beside her. Something squeezed his heart, but he refused to cry. He could be strong, like her, and keep his tears at bay. She never cried. She'd die first. Well, she did. Keladry hadn't even cried for Owen. "I can be strong like that-- like you," he said to her, as if she was awake and listening. He leaned forward, breathing in her scent, taking a long look at her eyelids, her nose, her mouth.
He kissed her, a light brush of the lips. It was the last thing he would ever do, because he laid down his head and closed his eyes.
And sensed the moment when his heart stopped.
~~
No. It wasn't the end. It was far from over. And the gods were not yet willing to receive the two kindred souls. So, they set the labafrets down, to right their selfish mistakes.
Two labafrets walked across the battlefield on their hind legs. They didn't know why they were there. It was smelly and dirty, and there was definitely no food to be had.
"George," the labafret walking on the right said. "What's wrong with you?"
"I don't know, Jonathan. Something feels different. I don't know what."
"Well, I'm starving. Can we go now?"
The purple labafret stopped in his tracks and peered at a young man and woman, lying beside each other. "Now, they look familiar."
"They're dead," the labafret named Jonathan remarked. "Come on! Let's go, I'm hungry!"
"Make yourself some food with your magic," George barked.
"But it tastes better when it's not magic made!" Jonathan whined.
"Fine, fine! We'll go to that plane that you like. The one with all those pestering immortals running wild from some stupid war," his friend said and dropped onto all fours. They began singing together, a terrible song that went unnoticed in the battlefield. The ground shook, and parted slowly. The bodies of the young man and woman slid down the crack in the earth. The labafrets didn't notice, and proceeded to climb down into the ground.
~~
"Esmond!" Merric called. "Did you feel the ground shake?"
Esmond ran up to his panicked friend and shook his head. "No. Why, did you?"
"Yes! I can't believe you didn't feel it. What happened?"
The two knights were left in confusion. They decided to go further into the royal forest and ignore the natural phenomenon Merric experienced. Before long, they were greeted with a shocking site.
"Uh… Esmond…"
"Merric…"
"What are two people doing lying in the forest?"
Esmond leapt down from his saddle and knelt down by them. "Gods, they're practically dead. Go! Bring help! Quickly!"
Merric nodded and galloped away on his black steed. Esmond checked their pulses again and wondered what he should do first to help them. "How did they get here? Who are they?" He squinted down at their faces. Something seemed familiar about them. He had seen them before. He was sure of it. So, why couldn't he think of it?
"Hmm…" he scrunched up his face as he thought. And then, it came to him.
"Mithros! It's… it's Joren and Keladry!"
~~
Author: Did you actually think I would let them die? I would receive so many flames… No, they're alive. Well, as of the moment. We'll see what happens. Happy Holidays.