Story. But first, the usual.
Tenshikoneko03: :3 read this chapter and see who ended up taking her clothes off...AKA who won the coin toss XD…
Dw- Glad you think I kept the balance good. I was getting a bit worried about that in the end, how the mood just kept changing; but I guess it turned out pretty good :P
Lovebuggy- Psh, Lancey and his ladies…
Dazzler420- Can't live without 'em, don't want to anyways. XD…
Katemary77- Yea, those kinds of fics…I don't know. I get about halfway through the story thus far and they just start making it complicated to understand and really boring… . Almost like mine! XD…
HGandRHrforever- That's ok, it's alright to skip reviewing a chapter every now and then. I mean, if I start a story that had about thirty chapters, I'm not submitting a review for all of them. Who would?
Too tired to do any more. Onto story now.
Chapter 5: A peculiar awakening for the kicker of scouts.
(revised)
Vrena awoke with a jolt, then scolded herself, remembering her injuries. But oddly enough, not much pain shot through her body at all. Was she numb, then? The air was chilly, but not cold enough to freeze…then she felt an odd source of heat and recognized the smell of smoke.
'Fire…There's a fire near me.'
Only tiny cracks and sparks were heard, the fire was not large. Small enough to cook food on, or heat up its occupants.
Beneath her, she no longer felt the hard cold ground, but her cloak. Her left hand gripped the fabric. She again noticed that no pain followed this movement.
She now had two choices. She could open her eyes and look at her surroundings, or pay no heed and continue to rest. But curiosity always got the best of poor Vrena, and slowly she strained her eyes open.
"Well Tristan, your assassin had awakened from her slumber."
Vrena bolted up, eyes now wide. She still wasn't dead? What the hell was going on today? This was torture…it would have been better if they had killed her while she knew not what was going on.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it now!" She hissed at them in a low tone, yet again surprised at how little pain she felt. Just a slight tearing feeling, but that was it.
"Seems we are not the only ones who jump to conclusions," A silent voice came from across the fire. She lifted her head to see none other then the man with the braided hair whom she had kicked the daylights out of, clutching his left cheek bone where a bruise was starting to show.
Oh god, if these men were telling the truth about not wanting to spill her blood, surely he was having his own thoughts about the matter! Vrena gulped and then removed the thin sheet of a blanket that had been covering her…to see bandages.
Lifting up her white baggy undershirt, she could see that gauze had been bound around her stomach and back where the sore cuts and bruises had been. That was why she was so comfortable! Why didn't she think of it sooner to undress herself and…
…
"…who undressed me?"
All the knights were silent, except Lancelot, who allowed a devilish smile to cross his face. One glance in his direction made her panic, and look to the others.
"Please tell me it was not him."
"Well, don't get too excited," Lancelot said with a frown. He already had not been having a good day. He had been scolded once by Dagonett, who told him to stop trying to pitch the tent and roll it back up. If they had to make a quick getaway, they would need to take that with them. Now he was again rejected by a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
"We know better then to let Lancelot get close to a pretty lady who needs 'er clothes removed, you have nothin' to fear." Bors said, stuffing a large chunk of cooked meat into his mouth.
This made Vrena feel reassured, but she was still wary of who had removed her clothing. Even though it was of good intention, she at least wanted to know who had performed the act.
It was dark now, and it had been only early afternoon she had last fainted. She had been unconscious for a good while. That must have given time for whatever they had put on her wounds to take effect, healing her soreness. Taking another look, she saw that her badly injured leg was being kept strait by a long piece of wood tied there with some cloth.
"If you really want to know, it was sir Tristan who removed your clothing, Dagonett who put healing oils on your injuries and bound them with cloth, and me who gave you the blanket." Galahad spoke up from his spot on the ground, far to the left of her.
"Thank you."
"No problem. Any woman would be scared if she were unconscious within three miles of Lancelot." Galahad joked. This knight Vrena could deal with, but the others had yet to prove commendable of her trust.
"So you're…not going to kill me? Torture me? Nothing?" Vrena wanted a guarantee, to be on the safe side. She had heard tales of the Knights of the Round Table…some not so delightful.
The knights well-knew the cautious look in her eyes. She clearly didn't trust them. Perhaps she wanted to, but that was a different story.
"We will do none of the sort, but…" Arthur answered, and then took a long pause.
"Sir Agustius, sir Agustius!" approached a child's voice as he scampered into the large stone house of the towns' owner and church priest.
The man jumped as if he had just seen his god in front of him, and turned to see the youngster who had just sprung through his living area like the devil was chasing him.
"What is it that frightens you, child?" He spoke calmly. "You can tell the lord anything."
"Me and- me and my friend-" The child spoke in harsh breaths, evidence he had run quickly to get there.
"We were racing along the woods and saw smoke from a fire. We saw-" The child stopped as if someone had grabbed his tongue.
"Do not fear to speak, young one."
"W-we were hiding behind a tree and saw it!"
"Saw what?"
"The one from two days ago, unconscious and taken by knights! The devil's child sir! We ran all the way back to warn you." The young lad fell to his knees in exhaustion.
A young woman with short raven-black hair, who had been seeking counsel with the priest at the time, looked curiously at the situation. Realization hit her as she glanced towards the man who claimed to be their vassal to the lord. No matter what kind of connection he may have, she knew what she had to do.
"She must be brought to justice and be made known the good fathers light!" She said delightedly. Her plans were working perfectly. If they could even be called plans…more like schemes.
Agustius nodded in agreement.
"Go alert the town folk, and send out my regiment. We may not be large in numbers, but I assure you the Roman knights who have taken her will gladly agree to offer her over to the lord-"
"Sir Agustius? I will go help spread the word of the matter and speak with you later." The woman said as she sprung from her chair and headed towards the stables. She was eager to help them track her sister, and then everything would be perfect.
Vrena knew exactly what was going on in Arthur's head. He wanted to know how she got into her current state. They all were probably curious on the matter, since it was rare to see a stranger wandering the forest with death written all over them.
Personally, though she still didn't trust them fully, she decided to go with her gut instinct and at least queue them in on the situations she faced.
"You want to know how I got this way." She cut Arthur off, generously taking the few scraps of meat on a stick that the one they called Bors had offered her. She thanked him and bit a chunk off. She could almost feel the warmth hit her stomach just as much as she could sense the knights' eyes on her. They plainly had not expected her to speak so freely about it.
"You do not have to share it, if it is hostile to your will." Their leader added. Why had she ever been afraid of this man? Maybe…maybe some Romans were as nice as him. She had gotten the uncommon opportunity to meet him. And it was only reasonable after what they had done for her.
Vrena let out a weak cackle.
"You saved me from my death, it is the least I could do."
Vrena took a glance over at Tristan, the Sarmatian knight whose cheek bone she had lodged the heel of her hard boot into. A pang of guilt struck her as she looked at the bruise and cut next to one of his war markings. From the way he had focused his attention to the ground and stared at the fire like it was the most mesmerizing thing in the world, he did not wish to look at her.
Now that she had seen and taken in each knight's actions and such, she concluded as follows:
Lancelot is definitely the woman-ravisher the stories say, stay distant from him.
Gawain's hair is as long as hers. He is ok.
Galahad doesn't seem to like it when things don't go his way, but his sense of humor makes up for it.
Arthur is the only kind Roman in existence.
Bors is fond of food.
Dagonett is wonderful with medicines and treating the wounded, she learned from self experience.
Tristan…Tristan was probably the only one who didn't trust her, and was probably fuming about his latest scar and bruise; probably also not happy with the fact he had earned them from an unarmed woman who wasn't even in condition to kick.
Incredible. She had only been awake and speaking with them for a small amount of time, and already she knew them well enough to perhaps trust them.
Vrena looked up to examine the night sky. There were no stars, and hardly a moon. But when she caught glimpse of its white shadow from behind a cloud, she knew that it wasn't too late into the night, and that they were facing the direction that would lead one to Tirth. She shuddered.
This wasn't good. All thoughts of telling stories to the knights vanished as fear overcame her again.
"How far are we from the nearest town?" The woman shot Arthur a look of panic. Arthur, not knowing which fraction of the woods they were in, turned to Tristan.
For the first time since she was hidden behind the tree, the man's mysterious brown-black orbs gazed into hers.
"The closest town is to the west, one of the only Roman areas around this part of Briton." He answered her question. But this did not comfort her, no it didn't at all.
Tirth was one of the only Roman Catholic provinces in Briton.
"How close?"
"A few miles."
Vrena's eyes widened in shock. They were that close to Tirth?
Her heart started to beat quickly as if she had been running, and she planted her hand and good foot to the ground hard, clamped her other hand onto Bors' shoulder, and hauled herself up off the ground with speed not recommended for people in her condition.
"Where are you going?" Arthur questioned as he stood up, along with a few of the other knights who would plan to support her if she fell, the others stood from disbelief. Seeing her bolt up in such way with her injuries was like watching someone's dieing grandparent decide to take a jog around a field.
"Far, far away from here," Vrena said hurriedly. "Where is Arvin?"
Receiving inquisitive looks from the men, she rephrased her last words.
"My horse?"
She spun her head in all directions. Quickly spotting her steed, lying close to a tree just behind Tristan, she rushed through the circle and around the fire. Ignoring the knight's confusion.
Then she froze.
Various noises of breaking twigs and crunching leaves filled their ears as figures on horses appeared in the distance.
Seeing her move toward him, Arvin instinctively stood.
Then Vrena pulled one of her most unwise stunts that day.
Taking her good leg, she hitched it onto where the wounded one would originally be placed, and hauled herself up with that limb, grabbing the white mare's reigns with her clammy hands. She had to get out now, or she would be killed for sure.
Closing her eyes and saying a silent prayer that this would not hurt as much as she thought it would, she nearly threw herself onto her horse, astoundingly managing to place her bad leg over to the other side; sitting herself comfortably onto the saddle.
She was happy they had decided to re-dress her after bandaging her, or this might have been a worse problem then it already was.
The noises of moving underbrush came closer and closer. Now it had morphed into the sound of hooves; Lancelot gripped the handles of his twin blades that were resting in their scabbards on his back, and Tristan steadied his bow at his side.
But no weapons that the knights had on them mattered in this battle. This was her fight, and she would not let them have anything to do with it.
If she escaped now, Tirth's soldiers would think --that, or be petrified- of Arthur and his knights.
"Put your weapons down!" Vrena said as quietly as she could to the knights. If anything, she knew this was what she owed them. She saw Lancelot study her and mouth a 'why?', but Arthur, smart enough to know already, grabbed Tristan's bow and forced it down, subsequently Lancelot released the handles of his blades.
Just in time for a man on horseback to come out of the forest, sword wielded at her. She closed her eyes and sighed. It was no use anymore. Running was not working; she would have to acknowledge her fate.
"Stay where you are and don't move!" The man shouted as around thirty others surrounded the campsite.
This was going to be a long night.
This isn't as big a cliffy as the last chapter, be happy.
I'm a tad disappointed with this though. I feel like I rushed through it, and that there were lots of things I could have made better had I thought to slow myself down.
I'm sorry guys, I'm a terrible writer.
III Cari III
