Title: Forever More
Author: Red Pollard who is obviously me. Hehe. Or not.
Author's Note: Chapter 17! I'm not sure what the structure for this chapter should be like but I'll try my best to make it alright.
Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur but I do own Kera.
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Chapter 17:†Back at Hadrian's Wall†
Arthur's command was to leave the lake immediately. The Saxons would not be able to cross and all Arthur and his band had to do was follow the trail which led through the valley and back out to the countryside. Nonpareil was no where to be seen so Kera was forced to lie down in the weapon cart. Dagonet rode silently beside the cart, checking on the weakened girl from time to time. Bors rode his horse up to Dagonet and they traveled side by side for some while before he found the courage to speak up.
"You need not fawn over her like a mother goose, Dag," Bors said. "She will be fine."
Dagonet scanned his eyes sadly over Kera. When Guinevere had told Arthur about Kera's head wound, the first thing they had to do was bind it. Now a long strip of cloth was wrapped several times around her forehead. Her lips were blue but her cheeks were growing rosy. She lay huddled in the very back of the wagon, shivering and wishing that she knew where her brave red mare was.
"She saved me, Bors," Dagonet said. "How do I even repay a person for that?."
"She's just an impractical child," Bors consoled. "The world will not end when one woman dies."
Dagonet frowned.
"It does not matter, Bors. Without her, I would be at the bottom of that lake now. Along with all the other Saxons as company."
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By the time Cynric and what was left of his even smaller infantry caught up with Cerdic, Cynric was feeling mixed feelings. He had found what his father had been looking for for so long, but on the other hand, Arthur still lived. Andrew paraded next to him, his chin held high with pride at the fact that they had captured the necklace. The larger Saxon army was resting for several hours in a small clearing. In the middle, Cerdic was talking to his bodyguard with a serious expression on his face.
"Father!" Cynric called out as he rushed head first towards the leader, waving the necklace around in his hand.
Andrew followed close behind.
Cerdic lifted his head and gave his son a hard look before approaching him. When he was close enough, he grabbed the necklace from Cynric's hand and held it close to his face.
"Alas, my son does not prove as a failure," he growled.
Andrew smiled expectantly from the shadows, his hands wringing themselves. Suddenly, Cerdic clenched his thick fingers around the small horse pendant and roared.
"What is the meaning of this!" he bellowed, pointing at the small inscriptions on the pendant. "Who here can understand them?"
Andrew came forward and held his hand out tentatively. Cerdic dropped it into his outstretched palm with a snarl. Flipping the necklace over in his hand, Andrew held it up to his eyes.
"The girl was most likely given this necklace by that wench her grandmother. I was with her when she asked a friend to make it personally himself. My mother was skilled in Gaelic. I never was able to learn that ancient language."
He paused as he smoothed his chubby fingers over the pendant's grooves.
"It is said in the myth that the girl who bears or bore the necklace, can understand the cagey tongue."
"Where is the girl now?" Cerdic demanded. "I want to see her."
Cynric nearly choked on his spit when he heard his utter the dreaded words.
"I—I gave her back to them…" Cynric stuttered, his eyes bulging from his head. "We had the necklace. There was no use for her."
Cerdic brought his face close to Cynric's, his small black eyes leering dangerously close.
"You stupid imbecile. You gave her a chance to explain what you did. Now Arthur and his men will have double the reason to fight harder."
Andrew stepped quickly between the father and son, probably preventing a fight.
"She knows not of what the necklace means, my lord," Andrew said.
"How is it that she knows this Gaelic?" Cerdic asked. "She is from the stupid Woadland is she not?"
"She is Scottish no doubt, yet living in the United States," he said then quickly explained when Cerdic's face clouded with confusion at the mention of the US. "It is a country that you have not yet discovered. Not more many years. But anyways. At a young age, her grandmother taught her Gaelic for she is part Irish, from her mother's side. A land just over the sea from here."
Cerdic nodded.
"We must leave now. I want that girl. No doubt they are heading for the wall. We will be up their tails in no time."
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i She was eight years old again, hair a bright orange from an experiment gone wrong. Her eyes were bright and sparkling as she hopped up and down beside the old woman and man. Her orange pigtails bounced up and down with each hop as she clapped her hands together.
"Is it done yet? Is it done yet?" she asked.
The old woman smiled, her forehead creasing into folds of wrinkles. Patting the young girl on the cheek, she placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed.
"All in good time, Kera. It's almost done."
The girl popped up on her toes and peered over the man's shoulders. She was short and skinny for her age. Little did she know that in the next seven years she would grow roughly a foot and a half to fill out her 5'10" frame.
"Mr. Stewart. Can I see it now?" she whispered.
The man bit down logically on his lower lip and carefully chiseled a bit more at the small onyx piece on the table before him.
"You can show her now, Henry," the grandmother said.
The man spun around on his chair and presented the small jewelry piece to Kera. She held it gently in the palm of her hand, so delicate as if she was afraid she would break it. Her mouth was open slightly as she ran her slender finger over the carvings. She whispered the Gaelic words out load to herself before the old woman's hand came and covered her mouth.
"You must never say them aloud, Kera. You must never tell anyone the meaning also," the grandmother said sternly.
Henry looked a bit confused but made no comment.
"Your grandmother has not even told me what these words mean. I just copied them. This must be one big secret your Grandmother knows," he joked, tickling Kera in the side.
The girl giggled and wriggled as she threw her arms around her grandmother's waist.
"Thank you grandma!" /i
The voices slowly receded to a mere throb. Groaning, Kera woke with a major headache growing in the right side of her skull. A movement off to her side made her wince, as she backed herself tighter into the corner of the wagon.
"Get away…" she groaned.
The figure slowly came into focus.
"Shhshshsh, Bors. She's waking."
Kera rubbed her red eyes and realized that that figure was Dagonet.
"Dagonet," she said, smiling. "It's you!"
Dagonet laughed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. After long long hours of nothing much ice and snow to see, the frigid valley gave way to the countryside to many of the villager's relief.
"How are you feeling?" Dagonet asked.
"So so," Kera said uncomfortably. "My head's killing me."
Her neck felt suddenly bare. Pressing her fingers to her neck, she shot upwards and nearly fell backwards from the sudden rush of blood to her head.
"Where's my necklace!" she yelled. "Where is it?!"
The knights that rode around the wagon looked among themselves with a bit of confusion.
"Necklace?" Galahad said.
Kera scramble to her knees and pulled her weak body up by grabbing the top of the short cart walls.
"It was here! Around my neck!" she cried, a sudden urgency filling her voice. "I can't lose it!"
Gawain shook his head sorrowfully.
"There was no necklace when you were recovered from the Saxons."
Her eyes flashed wide as it began to dawn on her.
"They have it…" she said, and for the first time in a long time, she disobeyed her grandmother's command and explained everything, starting from the beginning.
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That night, after Arthur had turned over the still weeping Fulcinia and silent Alecto to the bishop he quickly found some time to make his way to the small cemetery at Badon Hill. Lancelot watched from a distant as he fell to his knees before a grave. It was custom that fallen warriors were buried at that hill and their swords served as gravestones. Yet this particular mound was swordless with nothing but a small fire burning to recognize the body beneath.
Lancelot sucked in a breath as he saw another person walk towards Arthur and kneel down beside him. Her gracefulness, even though concealed by a cloak, gave her identity away. It was Guinevere. Lancelot moved closer to the shadows as he watched Guinevere place a smooth hand to Arthur's cheek, comforting him. Envy spread through him like a wild fire but the resentment diminished as he spun away and entered the fort once again.
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Author's Note: Pardon the incredibly short chapter, but I felt that my next idea would fit better with a chapter on its own.