I added in some dialogue, some action, and a very informative flashback. I highly recommend that you read this, and the last chapter, as you won't get the ending otherwise. One of the major reasons I changed this chapter was that Wacilla's death was so anticlimactic. Hopefully, this works better now, let me know.
Tomb Raider X- Yes, I'll be redoing the next chapter as well. Then, onto the epilogue! Woo Hoo!
HGandRHrforever- I have been known to be a rather heinous individual on occasion. This is for the best, you'll see...
Camreyn- thanks for taking the time to review. Let's be honest with ourselves...the last few chapters really sucked. But, as long as they're fixed, everything will work out. Thanks again!
Galatus was getting bored of the bandit life. They rarely had enough ale to go around, enough gold, enough women. It wasn't the glorious lifestyle that he had pictured when he first joined Wacilla. At any moment, one could be killed, and that would be the end of all aspirations. But he couldn't leave. Wacilla didn't take kindly to deserters.
Wacilla was really getting out of hand. He was certainly an asset when they sacked a village, but he was more of a liability the rest of the time. He didn't think like a normal man. Well, at least they knew he liked women now. He had excellent taste. Habren was quite the woman. Not that he could express this opinion. Wacilla didn't like anyone touching what was his.
The flicker of the firelight skimmed the curves of feminine flesh. That was certainly a surprise. Te women were supposed to be under heavy guard at all times. Wacilla was getting greedy, thinking only of his own pleasure. Galatus wondered if Wacilla kept all of them in his bed. It appeared that one had escaped. Galatus approved of the Gods' choice for him. She had a beautiful body.
"Aren't you supposed to be in Wacilla's tent?" he asked her slyly, looking her up and down.
She grinned seductively at him, sliding onto his lap. She kissed his neck, surprising him. His hand strayed from his sword. He had expected her to be hostile to his advances, most women were. She seemed to flourish in captivity. So much the better.
He slid his hands up her legs "Well, if you're going to be like that..." he was abruptly cut off by her dagger slashing his throat.
Rebekah whipped her dagger on the dead man's tunic, and noted the blood now staining her chest. She tisked softly, and went to see how the others had fared. She found her bloodstained friends, and they signaled for the remaining fighters that the coast was clear. There would be no sentries to warn the bandits of their attack.
Habren was panting, unable to catch her breath as Wacilla tortured her endlessly. She wouldn't scream. She would not.
Papay came as soon as the signal came. He knew what he had to do.
They group spread out, searching the camp for any sign of the missing women. Gawain found them first.
Gawain disposed of the two guards stationed outside the tent. He whipped open the tent flap, and took care of the rather surprised bandits. Rage rolled through his body. Their blood sprayed his skin, scorching him. He turned to Radha, who was comforting Deirdre on the ground.
Galahad ran to Deirdre, though they knew that they had to be quiet. The plan had already been outlined. Deirdre would not stay to fight. Galahad put his arm around her, guiding her back to their camp through the dark. There would be time for tears later.
Gawain unstrapped Radha's weapons from his back, and she nodded to him gratefully. She had missed them. And him. Gawain pulled her into a brief but passionate kiss, before releasing her. They had one more woman to find.
Tristan examined the bodies. They all had their throats slashed, though it seemed rather unnecessary to have gutted them. Tristan couldn't help but be impressed.
Papay found them. That animal was on top of Habren, nearly making her cry. This would not be tolerated.
"Wacilla." He said, in a soft and dangerous voice.
Wacilla raised his head from Habren's breast, and nearly showed his shock. He had not expected Papay to catch up to him so soon.
The two men stared at each other, and Habren wept softly. This was far too much emotional strain for her. Wacilla was rubbing her face in the fact that Papay wouldn't want her anymore. She was unclean. She was completely naked under another man.
"Papay, what a pleasant surprise. Perhaps you've met my woman..." he said in his most polite voice, gesturing to Habren. He ran a hand down her body, waiting for Papay to act.
Instead, Papay began to idly twirl the dagger that had fallen from Wacilla's sheathe. It had been their father's dagger.
"Do you really think father would approve of the uses you have put this dagger to?" asked Papay, forcing himself to remain calm. He had to keep Wacilla's attention on him. Habren was still in danger.
Wacilla suddenly stood, eyes riveted on the dagger. Habren took the opportunity to roll off the bed, taking the blanket with her. She didn't want to be naked any longer. It took some time for the significance of Papay's words to sink in. They were brothers. 'I shared a bed with my lover's brother?' she thought. The situation kept on getting worse and worse.
"Give it to me." Said Wacilla, his voice regaining its frosty tone, though his blue eyes were distinctly wild.
"Do you still think about him?" Papay asked, "What would he think if he could see us now?"
"It doesn't matter how many you kill, it's how you kill." Beukan instructed his sons.
They listened eagerly, wanting to learn the secrets to being the greatest warrior of all time. The boys were always competing, always wanting to prove themselves the best. Beukan twirled his dagger, knowing the boys' thoughts. He had had the same at their age. They had to learn that plans did not always work out. They had to learn the wonders of improvisation.
"Now, say one of your men betrays you in the most horrible way imaginable. How is he dealt with?" he asked.
The boys thought for a few moments, wondering what the worst betrayal was. Finally, Wacilla spoke.
"You kill him." He said, looking up into his father's face, wondering if he had answered correctly.
"That's only part of it. His death must mean something. It discourages others from following in his footsteps." Responded Beukan, smiling slightly. They were catching on. They would make fine leaders one day.
"Now, go see if your mother needs any help...and if I hear anything about you pestering Tisza's daughters again, I will be very upset." He warned, dismissing them.
The boys scampered off, in search of their mother. If they passed by Tisza's daughters on the way, it could hardly be their fault.
Papay turned to his brother. "Do you think you will ever have to kill anyone?" he asked, a bit worried.
"Of course I will." Wacilla scoffed. "I will be the greatest leader our tribe has ever had." He declared.
Wacilla strutted off, leaving Papay behind. Papay bit his lip, worried. Wacilla was a much better warrior than he was. Their father always said so. Papay would be a leader one day, though no one would like him. Everyone liked Wacilla. He had a powerful presence, something that he lacked.
He heard the horses coming then. He turned around, a bit shocked to see the Roman officers approaching. He had never seen them before, but their red capes were legendary. They were coming for him.
He ran to his father, but Wacilla was already there. Beukan handed Wacilla the dagger that he had always treasured, hoping that it would bring him home safely. Papay watched, but said nothing. It wasn't exactly a shock.
He looked about him, saddened. He would not see his village for fifteen years. If he survived that long, anyway. He wouldn't get to tease Tisza's daughters for quite some time. With that I mind he sprinted to their tent, wanting to say goodbye.
Phalerae had just come out. When she saw him, she blushed, and smiled at him. She had always been his favorite.
"I have to go away for a while." He said.
"Oh." Said Phalerae, trying to smile.
"Will you wait for me?" he asked, a bit worried now.
"Of course I will!" she assured him.
He smiled, relieved. He placed a hesitant kiss on her cheek. Phalerae blushed even more, turning away.
"Come back soon!" she called over her shoulder.
He went with the Romans with a smile on his face. He turned to the boy next to him. He had dark hair and mischievous green eyes.
"I'm Papay." Said, introducing himself.
"Afsati." He grinned. "You related to that beast?" he asked, indicating Wacilla.
Wacilla refused to speak to anyone, and was simply staring at the dagger in his hands.
"If you be quiet about it, yes."
Afsati laughed. "Don't worry, little prince, we'll take care of you!" he said, indicating Angi and Magovey. Afsati hadn't been lying that day. They were stationed at the same post, and over the course of fifteen years had forged bonds not easily broken. They had learned to gamble, curse, and charm wenches together. They were the lost boys of Sarmatia, and they had fun. They couldn't wait to go home, and when the time came, the rode as fast as their horses could go.
They did not get the reception they expected. When Papay went to see Phalerae, he found her with a baby on both arms, and about five children attached to her legs. This had been a bit shocking. She had promised! She had glared at him, threatening to get her husband if he didn't leave her alone.
The knights had had enough. It was time for a change of scenery.
Wacilla had vowed revenge. He would be a leader. He would make them sorry.
They both remembered what the dagger stood for now. Revenge.
"This time you went too far. You should never have taken her. Don't you remember the last lesson our father taught us? You knew the answer then, and you know it now. Now, you will die." He said, and threw the dagger at Wacilla's chest. It found its mark. Wacilla dropped where he stood, red blossoming around the dagger.
Silence filled the tent after his last sputtering breath, and Papay and Habren stared at each other. Slowly, Papay approached. He was cautious. She would not love him now. He had let her down. She had tugged the blanket around her body, tears still streaming down her face. She ripped an amulet from around her neck and threw it at Wacilla's corpse. It was as dirty as she was.
Papay finally made it within a foot of Habren. He crouched down to her level, hand outstretched. She stared at it, wondering what he wanted. When his fingers reached out to tentatively stroke her cheek, she flinched. He withdrew his hand quickly, though she seemed saddened by this for some reason. Habren stared at the hand, willing it to return to her again. When it did not, she reached out her own hand, bringing his to her cheek.
Papay could not quite describe how her hand on his felt. For some things in life, there are simply not words. Words are often inadequate.
They heard a scream from outside the tent, and decided that there would be time for such things later. Papay picked her up, blanket and all, and carried her out of the tent. It was agreed beforehand that they would get the hostages out of the camp before worrying about the other bandits. He moved soundlessly past the tents, finally reaching their own camp.
He brought Habren to his tent, settling her on his cot. He turned to leave, to return to the bandit camp, but Habren stopped him.
"Don't go." She pleaded, gripping his hand.
It frightened him to see her like this. The Habren he knew was not afraid of anything. Tears stained her cheeks now, her eyes silently pleading with him. He could refuse her nothing.
He joined her on the cot, and she buried her face in his chest, curling into him. He wrapped his arms around her instinctually, knowing that this was what she needed. She didn't want to talk right now, but this she could handle.
Tristan had only gotten to kill one person that evening. It was disappointing, but it could not be helped. None of the hostages had been killed, so this was a definite plus. Lucky Rebekah, she'd gotten to kill two. The only one to exceed that had been Gawain, who had killed four.
They had found Wacilla in his tent, with his own dagger sticking out of his chest. Habren's dress was there, but no Habren. Papay was missing as well, so they decided that they were probably together.
Lancelot stared down at the dress in his hands, knowing what it meant. The man lying dead on the ground had violated his sister. If any of the others noticed the extra dagger in Wacilla's body, they didn't remark upon it.
The tent flap blew open with a gust of wind. The abandoned shell of Wacilla the bandit remained. He had learned his lesson after all.
"Calm down!" exclaimed Deirdre. "I'm fine! Why can't I get up?" she fumed.
Galahad had insisted that she take a nap. This made absolutely no sense to Deirdre. She had had plenty of time to sleep while in captivity! She didn't want to sleep any longer.
Galahad turned to her, worried, as he always seemed to be now. "Did they...touch you?" he asked softly.
"No." she said, shaking her head. "They didn't."
Galahad looked only slightly relieved.
"Come here." She said, motioning him over. "If I can't get out of bed, you can't either."
Gawain led Radha back to their tent. It had been empty without her. Radha found a cloth and some water and began to clean the dirt and blood off of herself. Gawain stopped her, and finished the process himself. Radha did not protest. He needed this, and she wanted this. He needed to be of use to her. Radha took the cloth from his hands, and whipped the blood from his face. He had killed four men in a manner that she had not thought possible of him. She had never been more proud.
"Why didn't you throw the axe?" she asked, remembering her dream.
Gawain studied her. He knew what she was asking. He had been wondering himself. She had meant nothing to him then. They had been enemies. Yet, he hadn't killed her. He could have. He had the opportunity. But when he had seen the look in her eyes, staring down at him, he couldn't do it. She wasn't a faceless enemy. She was a woman trying to hide her fear. He would never tell her this though. She liked to play the "invincible warrior" and he didn't want to ruin her fun.
"And miss the opportunity of getting you in bed?" he asked.
Radha just shook her head. She knew what it was, and it wasn't the reason he stated. She kissed him, then pulled away, smirking. "Liar."
"It's partially true." He insisted.
Habren sat up, and Papay followed her motions. She stared at him, wondering why he still wanted her. He had found her in a compromising situation, and hadn't said anything about it.
"Why do you love me?" she asked. He had never told her that he loved her, but she knew.
It was a hard question to answer. Papay didn't really have the words for it. "You have a good heart. I love you because I do." He said, knowing that he hadn't made much sense.
But he did.
Habren wrapped a hand around his wrist, feeling the ragged ribbon that still encircled it. She leaned forward, and kissed him. She wanted love.
Papay didn't want to remind her of his brother. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to comfort. He let her lead. She removed his clothes, and slipped off the blanket, pulling him on top on her. She ran her fingers through his hair once more, bringing back memories of the good times. His hands were on her again, and for a brief moment, she was reminded of Wacilla. The moment passed, and everything was Papay. Wacilla was dead. Papay was not.
Tristan removed his weapons, and his bloodstained clothes. Rebekah noticed his mood.
"Stop sulking." She teased.
"I am not sulking." He replied.
"Are you ever going to marry me? First, you didn't want to get married in Britain. Then, when I agree to be married by your people, we have to go chase bandits instead. Do you plan these things?" she asked, incredulously.
"Actually, I never planned on marrying you. I will simply lock you away in a high tower. That is the extent of my plan." He said, trying to distract himself from his pitiful kill rate.
Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "I can see several things wrong with that plan. One: my father would not be pleased if you did not marry me, two: neither would your parents, three: You will have a hard time finding a high tower here, and four: No man could say that was the extent of his plan for me." She said, triumphantly.
Tristan stared at her for a bit, trying to come up with a decent defense. "One: I wouldn't tell the parents. Two: I will find a tower in Britain. Three: this is the only point you are right about." He finished, feeling very pleased with himself.
Rebekah was astonished. That had been quite a speech for Tristan.
She finally regained the use of her vocal chords. "You see, I win..." she was cut off by Tristan pulling her to him into a fierce kiss. It was at times like this that Rebekah didn't mind being interrupted.
Perhaps his parents' relationship wasn't such a mystery. Tristan was betting his father was an expert at getting Api to shut up.
Sera was asleep, worn out by the nights events. Lancelot had washed the blood from her chest, glad that she had not been harmed. His finger traced the swirling tattoos on her back, remembering the night he had first seen them. He hadn't really known her then, hadn't even kissed her. She had inspired awe in him that night, a divine presence. She was still that divine presence for him now. She was a natural soother.
Sebbi was quiet. He had faced his demons that night. Aine had removed her Woad garb, and had just finished getting the last of the blood off of her, when Sebbi spoke.
"Would you consider...perhaps...marrying me?" he asked, a bit hesitantly. He could never really tell what he meant to Aine. He knew what she meant to him, but it was often hard to tell with the reverse.
Aine turned, staring at him. He had told her of his wife, his child. This was hard for him. "I was wondering when you would ask. I wouldn't want this one to come into the world without a father." She said, patting her stomach.
Sebbi froze.
Aine looked at him expectantly. She hadn't been sure how he would react to this news. She had only found out herself quite recently, and wasn't sure whether he even wanted another child. Perhaps it was too painful.
Sebbi strode over to Aine, scooped her up, and deposited her on their cot. "You will not drink, curse, or fight during this pregnancy." He instructed, placing his head on her abdomen.
"What's wrong with cursing?" she asked, surprised at Sebbi's abrupt change in mood. "I don't think you can hear anything there." She commented.
"Do you mind?" he asked, his voice a bit muffled.
Sebbi hadn't been this happy for quite some time. He kissed her abdomen one last time before returning his lips to the mother of his unborn child. Life had an odd way for giving what it takes.
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