SpectralLady- Thanks :D I'm looking forward to the next chapter more then this one…

Katemary77- Was it really the best chapter? o.o

Calliann- He'll have lots more reasons to be worried about her in later chapters, don't worry :P

Dw- XD if they hadn't been too busy helping Dagonett, I'm sure she would have given him a nice kick or two…or three…

Gondorian Archer- I had to do some quick research on Egyptian war bows, believe it or not. I knew nothing about them until I thought to myself "wow. I might want to know something about this weapon before I put it into my story XD"

Op- Dude, dude XD

Charlie- Really? Definitely e-mail that to me then. Maybe I can write that one after I'm done with this :P

Siopao- Maybe for some gold on Gaia you can convince me to hold updating until the morning when you're online :P (just kidding. I'll warn you next time.)

HGandRHrforever- More goodness will be in the next chapter, I promise. This chapter won't be too exciting :(

-


-

Chapter 16- Sobs of an Unfortunate Mad Woman, Yells of an Unfortunate Sane One.

-


-

Fulcinia thought she might have died from lack of airwhen she saw the body the two serfs were carrying. It was so beaten up and bruised, and looked paralyzed…at first, she thought it was Vrena- but she remembered that Vrena was with the knights and Guinevere, and this girl had come from further down the trail.

She began to panic as she looked at Vejha's limp corpse in Ganis' arms, pale and wet from the snow.

"Is she dead?" Her voice shook, moving closer to her niece…now she saw the differences between Vrena and Vejha. While Vrena's hair had a slight curl to it, Vejha's was strait and smooth, and much shorter. It had probably been cut that way in the past. But she looked so much like her sister, it would still bewilder you.

"Aye, she's breathing…but she's out of it…" Ganis said. "I found her over there, just about near the cliff." He finished.

Fulcinia looked up, and indeed, they were near a huge Tor…from down where they were, it looked endless and vast. From the top, everything below must seem like a painting…Studying Vejha's condition, anyone would be able to tell that she had either jumped or been thrown.

"Vejha tried to kill me." She remembered Vrena's words as she looked at the lifeless body in Ganis' arms. From the way she had put it, it made Fulcinia believe that she thought her sister a madwoman. If that was a fact, they should discard the body and pretend they never came across it. But…she could just not do that. No matter how little sanity Vejha had left, no one deserved to suffer in the cold.

"Put her into the wagon, and take Lucan out of it. Bring him to me once you have covered her with every blanket you can find." She commanded, surprised at the authority in her voice. But then, it was her family, they had no chances to intervene with her judgment.

"She resembles-" But Ganis could not finish, because Fulcinia had begun to swat him away. She watched carefully as he carried her to the wagon, the disappeared out of sight. When he came back out, he looked around the immobile pit-stop. They had only moved a few minutes from the ice, and it was safe enough where they were.

She smiled as she spotted Arthur and Lancelot become visible through the trees, but all joy vanished as soon as she saw Bors with a wounded Dagonett over his shoulder, and Tristan cradling Vrena carefully. She looked worse then before, and was now soaking wet and shivering, wrapped up in the scout's cloak.

From a sadistic state of mind, she now knew that Vrena and Vejha were both prone to many things- most recently noted to be fainting and falling.

-


-

She was beginning to feel the heat return to her body. Most of the heat was rising to her face, though…indeed that was one body part were all the blood seemed to go when Tristan was around. But he was holding her. HOLDING her. She didn't even think it was the chills that shook her bones anymore, but the fact that they were so close together. Nearly the whole walk to the caravan she had been absorbed in three things:Tristan's scent, Dagonett's body that needed to be healed, and her burning headache.

As her aunt came forward, however, Tristan did not put her down. Instead, he shot Arthur a quick stare. Arthur, fully aware that they could not go anywhere until the injured Dagonett –and sick Vrena- were taken care of, began to shout orders crankily.

"Someone go catch food, someone light a fire, and someone go retrieve Dagonett's healing supplies from the wagon." He commanded, rubbing his temples. All the knights were under a painful amount of stress at the moment, and it was mostly them who volunteered to perform the tasks he asked of. They were all hungry and cold, eager for a fire and some food.

Tristan finally sat her onto the ground, near where Lancelot and Galahad had begun throwing every piece of wood they could find into a pile. Bors also laid Dagonett's body next to her; Guinevere ran off to the wagon in which she had spent most of the trip, to retrieve all of Dag's gear.

Vrena blinked as her aunt's eyes widened and she ran after Guinevere quickly, trying to make it to the carriage before her. But her head throbbed painfully for the thousandth time; she shut her eyes tight, trying to fend off the ache. When she opened them, Guinevere and Fulcinia had both disappeared from sight.

-


-

Guinevere turned around as she neared the wagon, Fulcinia right on her heels. She gave the woman a questioning glance, but was taken aback by the fright in the elder's voice.

"You mustn't go in there, not until Vrena knows." Panted the frail lady, gripping the curtain of the wagon tightly. But Guinevere would not have things hidden from her, and she had to hurry quickly with collecting Dagonett's medicines.

"What is in there you are so afraid of me seeing?" Guinevere asked as Fulcinia closed her eyes in thought. There was silence for a few seconds, until the woman could grasp the words to elaborate with.

"We found her…buried in the snow. She hasn't woken up yet." Fulcinia spoke quietly, trying to slow her words. Guinevere raised an eyebrow and pulled back the curtain.

"Is that…?" She asked as she examined the body covered in many blankets, unconscious on the floor. At first she had thought she was seeing Vrena's ghost or some unfathomable thing such as it, but the hair was shorter. Her face looked bruised, she only imagined what the rest ofthebody looked like.

"Has Vrena not told you?" Fulcinia shook her head, reaching into the wagon to grab Dagonett's things. "This is Vejha, Vrena's sister. The one who tried to…" But Fulcinia was cut off quickly by Guinevere.

"How did she come to be this way, and if she is an enemy, why did you not leave her to die where she was?" She asked in an angry voice. What did this woman think she was doing, keeping Vrena's worst fear nearlyten yards away? Indeed Fulcinia's actions seemed faulty.

"We found her near the bottom of a cliff. No one knows if she jumped or was thrown." The other woman spoke meekly. Guinevere sighed.

"When exactly do you reckon Vrena will be informed of this?" Guinevere asked sharply. But Fulcinia did not reply, merely look to the ground, then back to the half-dead Vejha in the wagon. Guinevere sighed again and took the cloths and ointments from the woman's hands, getting away as quickly as possible. Vrena's sister, the one who had gone mad and nearly killed her…is being sheltered right here at their camp site!

She tried to hide her shock and frustration as she neared Vrena. Enough wood had been collected, and Lancelot had poured some alcohol over it and was working silently, trying to spark it. Galahad was sitting quietly and gazing at the snowy grass beneath him, and Tristan was kneeling next to Vrena in –what seemed like to her- a protective manner. This made her feel somewhat less miserable; glancing over to Arthur, who was to the left of them, was still standing. His mood had not improved over the last couple minutes.

Lancelot sighed triumphantly as the wood began to blaze, and he fell back onto the white and green of the ground; closing his eyes to try and rest himself. Looking between Arthur and him, she began to feel a slight headache herself. Soon she would have to stop thinking about other individual's relationships, and start thinking about her own.

Vrena, who was looking only a small bit better after being warmed with the Fire -and Tristan's cloak-, extended her hands to receive the cloth and healing ointment.

-


-

Vrena scanned her surroundings as Guinevere handed her the supplies needed for Dagonett's wounds. Tristan was next to her, and subconsciously, she knew that he taking away her chills faster then the fire ever could. Just being next to him sent her gut into a mad fury, making her nervous of his presence. But this man whom was so near…she knew that it could never be anything more. He was Sarmatian, and she carried the blood of both his friends and his enemies.

Steadying herself and ignoring her pounding headache, she untied the old cloth from Dagonett's arm and leg, but his clothes were now getting in the way of his wounds. She was NOT about to strip him of his clothing, in any case. But fortunately for her, Tristan noticed her struggle, and pulled out his dagger; he made long rips where the wounds were so she could reach them, then pulled away to let her work.

She poured some of the ointment onto the open wound, and jumped as Dagonett's body moved a bit, but he did not wake from his unconscious state. It was good for her that the arrows had not penetrated too deep, or she would have been required to sew them up, which was not a fun task.

Tying the new fresh cloth over the leg wound, she did the same for the shoulder, and then collapsed backward onto the snow, mimicking Lancelot. But from the looks of it, Lancelot was already dead asleep. How he did it, she would never know.

"Might want to get up, your aunt has something to tell you." Guinevere said from her spot next to Lancelot, trying to warm herself up with the fire. "In private."

She saw Guinevere nudge her head to the side, and gazing in that direction, Vrena saw her aunt Fulcinia with a worried look on her face, waiting. Vrena forced herself up, and was amazed at how better she felt already. Yes, her head was killing her, but she was warm from the fire and not as wet anymore.

She followed Fulcinia, wondering what could be making the woman look so full of dread. But Fulcinia immediately stopped in her tracks as Lucan emerged from one of the lady serf's care, running towards the bandaged Dagonett. Her aunt turned around, obviously thankful for the distraction. Guinevere stood up quickly, though,and advanced toward her.

"If she won't tell you, I will." Said thewoad warrioras she grabbed Vrena's wrist and walked quickly away from any close earshot; whatever they needed to tell her was clearly a secret. They stopped right in front of the wagon that customarily carried Lucan, Guinevere, and herself.

"They found her near the cliff while we were fighting. They think she jumped, but still aren't sure...apparently your aunt decided to keep her instead of leave her be." Guinevere explained, receiving a curious look from Vrena.

"Who?" She asked. She didn't know many people that both her and her aunt knew. But without further ado, Guinevere grimaced and pulled back the curtain of the wagon.

Vrena let out a scream of shock that seemed to echo inside the entire forest, nearly jumping back a foot once she recognized the unconscious, bruised body- which turned out to be none other then Vejha. She saw that there were five long, bloody scrapes on each side of her face, which she had probably done herself with her fingernails. And she was breathing. Vrena began to panic, not knowing whether that was good or horrible. Fear churned up inside her, along with anger. Once Vejha woke, god knows what would happen! She was crazy, a madwoman!

She ran with all the speed in her towards the fire, where Gawain and another man had returned with nearly five hares each, brown ones that were easily spotted in the snow. She knew that as she walked quickly forward, she looked furious. How couldFulcinia possibly keep her here, knowing she wants me dead?

She stopped a few feet from her aunt, who was looking at her with sorrowful eyes, unlike the curious ones of everyone else. Fists clenched, she resisted falling to her knees and punching the ground, and instead began to yell.

"What the HELL is she doing here?"Vrena shouted loudly, so that nearly everyone was stairing at her now. 'Way to go, draw more attention to yourself then needed...' she scolded herself mentally, then closed her eyes and let herself intake air as Fulcinia tried to explain.

"She is too bad a shape to get up and murder you, dear. You should not worry about it so much, calm yourself." She was surprised with her aunt's sudden urge to fight back instead of drift away. But the answer only made her mood worse, and she clenched her fists harder.

"How am I supposed to be calm while my murderer is no more then thirty feet away, enlighten me!" Vrena spat through tightened teeth. At this comment, the knights –excluding the still sound-asleep Lancelot- gave her an odd look. She knew they were aware of who she was speaking of, for they had seen her sister while in Tirth.

When Fulcinia did not respond, and instead turned back to the Lucan in her lap, Vrena stormed off and kicked the side of a wagon as hard as she could- making it shake only a bit, then stormed off into the dark woods. She walked, and did not stop- even though she knew she was sick and cold again, and would most likely get lost.

-


-

Vejha could hear a familiar voice screaming from far away, shouting at someone. Her mind thought Vrena, but then she was not sure. Was her sister here? Was she alive? Was it her sister whom had saved her?

She tried to move her limbs, but cried in pain when they refused to budge. The only things she could move were her arms, which ached with every inch sheshifted them.

'That's right, I jumped off the cliff, and of course I'm probably paralyzed from the waste down.' She thought to herself.

She forced her eyes open and looked around. Her head was still mobile, thank god. That meant that her legs were not paralyzed, possibly either broken or merely stunned from the shock of her landing. She was inside a wagon, and the entrance was draped with a long blanket to prevent one from looking in. The only light was coming from the front opening, which wasn't much. She was inside a forest...that much she could tell.

Using all the energy her arms could muster, she pushed the upper-half of her body off the ground and leaned onto the wooden wall, panting for breath. She tried to move her leg again, and this time succeeded; thus rewarded with more pain searing through her whole being, but she held her scream. She didn't want anyone to hear her.

Vejha was now comforted with the fact that her body -excluding her left leg, which she confirmed was broken after trying to move- was fine, except for some bruises.

The fall must not have been as high as she thought- if it was, she would probably be dead right now, that she knew. She wanted to apologize so badly to her sister…tell her that she was fine, that she was normal again, that she had driven out the madness within her. It was a miracle.

This in her head, she scooted forward on the wooden floor of the carriage, and didn't even bother with moving away the curtain as her legs slid off the side. She remembered not to land on her left leg, and put all the pressure onto the right, which was not any better…but this pain she could deal with.

Her whole body out of the wagon, she leaned against the side for what seemed like ages as she scanned the world around her.

There were many horses and wagons such as the one she had been in, lots of luggage. This was obviously a traveling caravan. Had they found her where she lie dying and take her into their care? But then, she had no idea who these people might be. Her ears caught wind of a crackling fire, and she finally noticed how cold she was.

She was clothed in nothing but a grey dress usually worn among the women in Tirth.

Tirth…it seemed as if the whole time she had been there was a dream and nothing more. She didn't even remember most of it up until trying to…she let the thought escape her head, one she did not want to think about just now.

Limping on her one good leg and clinging to anything she could find, she made her way closer to the fire.

But as it came into view, she froze in her tracks. So did the many people around it, who seemed as shocked as she was. A memory flickered in her head, the memory of the night her mad self had re-captured her sister. There were knights, she remembered. They had captured her and given her back…something of the sort. And…bloody hell, these were them! She recognized each of them, including her aunt Fulcinia, and a woman she did not recognize.

She knew she looked in awful shape...but the looks of shock these people, even her aunt, were giving her…as if she had done something wrong. 'Dear god, they know I tried to kill Vrena…think; think…if Fulcinia is here, she probably heard from those men what I had done!' Vejha was now frightened, just standing there leaning against a tree, frozen like a rabbit caught in a snare.

"Vejha!" She heard her aunt say aloud, and removed the child that was on her lap, standing up quickly. No! She had to get out of here, right now, or she would surely be executed! No doubt even the meek aunt she remembered from so far back would be furious with her!

Her breath quickened and she leaned onto the tree, forcing hergood leg to run as fast as it could…it was pitiful, how she was attempting to run with a broken leg.

But she had only retreated about three steps towards the darkness of the woods as her aunt ran quickly toward her, along with the aid of two knights. One had long blonde hair, the other she recognized as their commander. When Fulcinia reached her, Vejha did not know if her aunt's eyes were sad with fear or hatred. Falling to her knees, she quickly gave in, giving them no reason to handle her roughly.

She expected a sword to stab her…or an arrow to pierce her…but neither came.

Instead, she felt her aunt stop the two knights in their tracks, and bend to pick her up from the ground. They rose slowly, and she now saw that it was neither fear nor hatred in Fulcinia's eyes…but worry.

"She is not armed. Let us get her towards the fire." Her aunt's quiet voice rang loud, and the knights who had came over moved back a few steps, allowing them to pass.

Without a word or any form of struggle, she let her aunt guide her over to the fire and sit her down on the ground. Across from it, she could see one of the men was stirring in his sleep, but then yawned loudly, pushing his upper body into a sitting position. He shot her a curious look, and then looked to the men around him for some explanation.

She saw that another man, large and strong looking was resting on the ground as well, his shoulder and leg bandaged in fresh cloth- and she saw some blood seeping through. She quickly averted her gaze back to the fire. She dare not look any of these men in the eye.

There was a long silence, and for that time everyone seemed to be lost in his or her own thoughts.

"What happened to you, Vejha?" Her aunt asked quietly from her side, as she continued to look into the blazing reds and oranges of the hearth in front of her. At first, her mind could not grasp the answer. So she spoke slowly, knowing that she best choose her words wisely, because everyone was listening.

"I…not even I am sure. Everything was fine, and then…it wasn't. I didn't have control over myself." She said more to herself then to her aunt.

"Fulcinia, I went mad. Most of the things I have done up until I threw myself from the top of a cliff, I cannot recall. It was as if I had not a single bit of control over my own thoughts, not even my own body…but…when I awoke in the snow…I felt real again, as if I had not been before." She continued, and then turned her head from the fire to face her aunt. "Like it never happened."

She did not know if they understood what she was talking about, she wasn't even sure if she herself knew. But it was the only way she could explain it.

"If sorrow and fret drove me into that madness, I fear for the next time such emotions enter my mind, for I do not know what may come of it. How is…" she paused, "How is my sister?" Vejha asked, turning back to the fire, grasping the fabric of her skirts tight in her hands.

"She was just here a while ago. Ran off when she found out you were here." Replied the same blonde haired man from before, who was slicing up a rabbit and sticking the meat onto a stick to be roasted.

Well, that was it. Her sister had seen her, and ran off. Her own sister, the one she wished comfort from this very moment, had run far from her. Vejha felt a hot tear stream down her cheek, and could not hold in her sadness any longer.

Sobs began emerging from her throat, and she let herself become absorbed in her sorrow. She felt Fulcinia's hand rest on her shoulder, but it did not comfort her. She needed Vrena to know that she was sorry for everything and anything she had done.

"I d-don't remember anyth-hing!" She yelled through cries, bending over to hide her face from view, her shoulder-length hair sticking to her wet cheeks.

-


-

"Tristan." Arthur spoke in his usual tone when he needed something done. "Go retrieve this ladies sister. Do not return until you find her."

Tristan looked up to his commander, and was more then glad to get away from the scene. After listening to this girl Vejha's reason for trying to get her sister killed, he was not quite sure if he believed it or not. But he would follow his orders.

Looking at the ground, he examined the direction Vrena had gone in, and looked closely at the dirt. Finding some of the earth crunched and some twigs broken, hedistinguished her path and followed it. Hopefully she hadn't wandered too far, woods could be dangerous at night.

Even to this very moment in time, he was still not sure of his feelings towards the woman. When he was with her, it wasn't clear to him how she felt. She always seemed frightened and timid, except when he would say something out of line and she would boot him in the leg.

He felt an attraction to her that he had never had with any other woman before...She was different from the rest he had ever seen or met, by far. For so long he had cared about nothing but fighting along side the other knights…it was his life, his skill. He could win a fight against almost any man alive. But when she was near, those thought seemed to loose themselves.

Continuing to follow the path she had taken, he noted that she had wandered farther then he had thought. But at last, he caught sight of her, sitting on the cold ground, alone.

-


-

She didn't know where she was now. It was getting dark, and less light shone through the tall trees. Vrena now regretted running off without thinking of the consequences.

Annoyed, she sat herself onto the earth, and quickly turned her head as the crunching of snow under feet came closer. She felt her heart beat faster as Tristan emerged through the trees, obviously searching for her.

"Arthur requests your presence." He spoke as he walked over to her, kneeling down to her side. His hair was braided and wild, as usual, and for a second she found herself laughing- he raised an eyebrow is curiosity, and she quickly apologized.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just…" She paused and tugged hard at one of his braids, laughing some more. "It's so fascinating."

But as quickly as she had let out her last chuckle, she returned to her somber self, and sighed aloud. "The question is not will I come at Arthur's command, but do I have a reason to go back?"

"You do not have a choice. I have hauled you around once today, I can easily do it again."

"Is that a threat?"

"Never said it wasn't."

"So first you insult me, and now you want to make threats?" Vrena inquired, shooting him a harsh glare. Honestly, he was charming, but their personalities clashed like fire and water…and neither seemed to know which element the other was.

"If you would cease to be incredibly stubborn, I wouldn't have to use them." He retorted calmly, remaining cool and collected.

"Well then, what if I say I refuse to move from this spot? Let him come to me." She said pretentiously, not moving an inch, head held high. But she had not planned on what to do after that. Nor did she have the time to, because the scout had stood up and grabbed her by the waist, hauling her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp of shock as he began moving back towards the way he had come.

"You bastard! Put me down!" She yelled at him, but it was no use. He simply held onto her waist tighter as he carried her through the woodland. She pounded him on his back hard once, but to no avail. Like such a blow would affect him, anyways. She tried to kick, but his other arm held down her legs. She was out of ideas.

"Once you put me down, I swear on fire, water, air, and stone that you will regret what you have done, you…" But no words came to her, and she gave up completely.

"If you want to know, he sent me to retrieve you because your sister has woken up." Tristan spoke as he led them closer and closer to the caravan. But he stopped in his tracks for a few seconds, and then put her feet back onto the ground, a serious look on his face.

"She's…awake? Walking around? Not asleep?" Vrena's voice grew stressful and panicky. He was leading her right into the hands of her sister? She watched him as he drew a quick breath, then tilted his headdown to meet her eyes. She had never noticed how tall he was.

"Your aunt asked her why she did what she had done to you. I can tell you that from what I heard, she claims to have no memory of anything, and declares to have escaped madness itself. She was crying before I left." He explained, now looking off to the side, where moonlight had begun to shine through the trees, casting an eerie glow around them.

Vrena looked to the ground and thought hard. Vejha has no memory of what she did? But what if she was lying? But then, what if she was telling the truth? She raised her hand and massaged her temples, her headache that had disappeared for a while now returning.

"The only thing you can do now is speak with her, and hope that she is not telling false words. None of us will let you come to harm." He said, and she detected a hint of comfort in his usual strong voice. She wanted to thank him, embrace him right here, but she knew she should not. She was…scared to, dare she admit it.

"Fine, lead the way." She said, allowing him to walk in front of her.

It was going to be a long night.

-


-

Guinevere watched as Tristan and Vrena emerged from the woods. The woman froze as she and her sister made eye contact, but her face softened as she noticed the tears and hopeful look onVejha's face. Maybe things would go well, maybe all of this would crash and burn. For here, it all depended on how Vrena dealt with it.

She for one, had not seen this girl prove herself to not be sane. She did not know if her story was the truth or not, but they were about to find out, and there was no better judge here then Vrena.

Vrena and Vejha both held eye contact for what seemed like ages, simply studying the other, as if they could read the other like a book. Lancelot handed Vrena a stick of rabbit meat they had finished scorching over the fire, and she gladly took it, eating it quickly.

Most of the Serfs were asleep now, some in wagons, some in makeshift beds. It was the nine of them who were surrounding the small fire now; but Dagonett had not stirred sinceVrena had wrapped his wounds, which was beginning to worry all of them. If he did not wake soon…that would be bad.

Guinevere had zoned out as Vrena began to talk, and it seemed she had drifted away into a dazed state. She could hear all of the words spoken between the two siblings, some sharp and some soft, but she was not awake nor asleep to hear them. She then heard laughing…coming from men and women. Lancelot had made a joke that had sent everyone into hysterics, and she snapped out of her daze to find herself lying on the ground, the fire lower then it was before.

When she sat up, she did not see Vrena or Vejha around the fire, only the knights and herself. Fulcinia was also missing.

"Welcome back." Arthur said to her as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. She quickly scanned the area for the missing people, and found that all three of them were sitting far away from the fire, sitting in a circle. They looked almost insubstantial, bathed in the moon's glow where a large opening in the trees shone down like a white sun. The three women seemed to be in deep conversation, and she regretted dozing off. Another new thing was that Vejha's injured leg was now in a splint. She had indeed slept through most the night!

Looking to Tristan, she saw that his eyes were fixed on Vrena closely, but lost contact as a loud squeal from a hawk penetrated the air overhead. Looking up, she heard Tristan whistle and hold out his forearm. The large bird flew down through the thick trees and landed gracefully on his arm, resting its wings, belly full from the night's hunt. Guinevere caught Arthur's gaze for a split second, then turned to Dagonett. He still had not woken.

-


-

From her spot next to her sister and Fulcinia, Vrena could see Guinevere looking at Dagonett's motionless body with a worried look on her face. She had a good reason to be worried, too. If someone did not wake from unconsciousness after a certain amount of time…that could be bad.

Allowing Vejha and Fulcinia time to talk more about things such as sewing, embroidery, and otheractivities that did not interest her, she stole away towards Dagonett, and the knights watched as she kneeled down next to him.

Everyone had gone silent as she checked his neck for a pulse. Finding one, she sighed with relief, but that did not meaneverything wasfine yet. Some of the knights grimaced at her worried look, and Bors began to look concerned.

"What is it?" He asked her as she tapped Dagonett's knee to see if his reflexes were working. But when she did, nothing happened. No movement, nothing. For the millionth time it seemed, she placed her fingers to her temples, not wanting to give the bad news to the knights whom had finally began to brighten up. But whether she wanted to or no, she knew she had no choice.

"He should have woken up by now. When someone acquires wounds such as these and looses consciousness, and they do not regain it within an extended period of time…" She paused and took a breath, not wanting to tell them this.

"It could mean that the wounds were deep enough to hit something vital, which might have triggered something in the brain to stop working. I remember learning something about it back when I was a child, and have seen it happen before." She finished, cupping her hands and resting her elbows on her knees.

"How can you be sure? What if yer head's scrambled it an' confused it with somethin' else?" Bors asked, hoping that she would agree, but she knew she could not. She remembered her teachings clearly enough.

"There is no way I know of to be sure. But if he does not wake up soon…there is nothing more I can do." She said regretfully, wishing that there was something she could do to wake Dagonett up, shake him out of it. But if she was right, then all odds were against her. Bors gave her a disgusted look, and turned to face the dying flames of the hearth, now ignoring everything and anything.

"You shouldn't be looking so glum" Fulcinia spoke as her and Vejha joined them. "It is probably the best way to die." Yes, way to go Fulcinia. Make the mood worse then it already is. But something in her aunt's voice told her that she was speaking the truth.

"He 'aint gonna die." Bors said harshly.

"I hate to be the bringer of bad news, but it is indeed possible. I have seen many die this way, including my own brother-in-law." She spoke again, catching Vrena's and Vejha's attention.

"Our father?" Vejha asked curiously. Vrena was happy to see her sister so much like her old self, not like the insane woman she had seen back in Tirth.

"Indeed, I remember it so vividly. Your poor mother cried for weeks. For three days he remained such as this. I do not know the cause for it, or why it happens only to some, but your father was a proud man who would rather be burned to death then die while asleep. So on the third day, your mother carried out his wish, and allowed him to die the death he wanted. It was the only thing she could have done to make him happy." Fulcinia told the sad story, the new information flowing into Vrena's mind. She absorbed every bit of it.

"Well, that's a happy ending, I suppose." Vejha sighed, laying herself down onto the ground where the fire had melted the snow, warming the ground beneath her.

Having no warm blankets besides Tristan's cloak that was draped around her shoulders, she huddled closer to the fire and lay down beside her sister, enjoying the heat of the flames.

"Vrena, you should sing us a song again. Put me to sleep, a lullaby or something." Lancelot begged, and then everyone started to ask for a song. She wished she could disappear, but thenFulcinia spoke up.

"Both of you, sing. Sing the tune you use to sing to me all those years ago, the one in that strange language I cannot understand." Fulcinia requested, and Vrena could tell that now Vejha was nervous about being dragged into her problem.

"In French? I remember it." Vrena spoke, twirling her fingers in the grass. She would be less tense if Tristan had not been there, he had notheared her sing before.

"I remember, but I forgot what it all meant…took us years to remember it, and here I've gone andlost italready…" Vejha said, laying herself onto her back, Vrena doing the same. They both looked up to the sky, or what they could see of it through the trees.

"As long as you take the higher part, I'll do it." Vrena bargained. Usually they would switch off with different octaves for the old French song, but she was too choked up right now to think about it.

There was a silence, and Vejha tapped her hand on the ground to give Vrena the beat, and they both started at once, the lower and higher octave blending together nicely, considering they had not sung together like this for a while. It was a chorale-like French tune, solemn and mysterious to those who did not speak the language.

"la chanson viennent à, la chanson viennent avec,
la chanson me chantent du temps et du mythe

Envoyez vos couleurs dansant par l'air d'or
envoyez les chansons au soleil avec vos cheveux d'or

vision vibrante dans les mots que vous apportez
votre douleur noient le froid qui pique

plus fort votre sain, plus doux votre douleur
votre royaume d'or, perdu sous la pluie

peut le jour viennent quand votre voix chante à tous
peut le jour viennent quand vos ennemis tombent

jusqu'à ce jour où je vous prie pourrait
pour chanter le sprite toujours libre et d'or

La vie et la mort vous bénissent avec être immortel
jusqu'à ce que le moment vient quand vous devez prendre le congé

vivez dessus avec vos chansons
vivez dessus avec vos chansons
chantez votre chanson à la douleur
chantez votre chanson à la vie

la chanson viennent à, la chanson viennent avec,
la chanson me chantent du temps et du mythe"

-


-

That morning as Vrena woke, she sat up to see Arthur praying at Dagonett's side, and Bors shouting loudly, angry and upset…she could swear Galahad looked like he was about to cry.

Dagonett was dead.

-


-
-

Yea, yea. I think this is officially the worst chapter ever. I hated it. Pray hard I can find the motivation for the next one xP…I would have been better off splitting it in half too, it took me so long to write…

By the way…I'm sorry for stalling Dagonett's death. You see…the next chapter would be too happy and cheery if he just woke up and lived happily ever after. It would have ruined the emotion. And someone was going to have to die the next chapter if he didn't, so there was no avoiding it. I'm sorry! ;-;

And if you're wondering about the song, all I can say is…

Seig heil, Babelfish.

And here's the translation if you're the curious type:

"song come to, song come with
song sing to me of time and myth

Send your colors dancing through the golden air
send songs to the sun with your golden hair

vibrant vision in the words you bring
your sorrow drown the cold that stings

louder your sound, softer your pain
your golden kingdom, lost in the rain

may the day come when your voice sings to all
may the day come when your enemies fall

until that day I pray you might
sing ever free, golden sprite

Life and death bless you with immortal being
until the time comes when you must take leave

live on with your songs,
live on with your songs,
sing your song to pain,
sing your song to life

song come to, song come with
song sing to me of time and myth
"

III Cari III