Part Eight
Love after battle
Kel awoke to the sounds of frantic trumpet calls. It was an attack signal from the sentries. Kel pulled on a pair of breeches and the nearest leather jerkin. She couldn't be bothered to grab her mail from the dressing room; she didn't think there was enough time. Rushing down the stairs she met Wyldon, dressed much as she was at the stable.
Hostlers already had horses saddled and readied for them. Kel was surprised to see that her mount was a dun mare named Sandrunner, not her trusty Peachblossom. She raised an eyebrow at the hostler as she mounted up. The hostler quickly replied, "He threw a shoe this morning, milady."
She nodded to the hostler, before nudging the mare into a gallop behind Wyldon. When they reached the edge of the forest where the skirmish was, she glanced around quickly, the odds were not good. Fifty men-at-arms plus Kel and Wyldon defended Cavall as seventy-five to one hundred Scanrans attacked. They charged into the middle of the battle together, slashing Scanrans that tried to de-horse them. Keladry thumped a man's skull with the iron-shod butt of her glaive and looked around for Wyldon; he was a few yards away, chopping of a Scanran's head. She gritted her teeth and turned the mare to ram her weapon into a man's chest. Kel twisted around to hack off a Scanran's head, when Sandrunner squealed in pain and reared, dumping the unprepared Kel from the saddle.
She hit the ground hard, hearing her arms crack as she landed on them. Pain shot up both arms; it was worse in her right arm. She cried out in pain and struggled to her feet. Two people watched, the first was a swordsman, who charged her and sliced her from left collar to the middle of her stomach. Kel looked at her split jerkin and the gushing blood for a brief second and then fell backwards in shock and pain.
The second was Wyldon, who raced over, killing the Scanran from behind. He leapt down and gathered Kel, hoisting her into the saddle with him. He was about to ride of to the keep to get her a healer when the angry roar of one hundred new men-at-arms came back from patrol. He smiled grimly and took another route to the keep, passing by the forest, where he found another limp body, that was barely hanging on. It was Little Kel. Wyldon clenched his jaw in fury and scooped her up as well. He raced towards the keep's main courtyard where he recruited several servants to help carry Keladry to the master suite and Little Kel to a room nearby. The one healer in residence, a trainee, raced up the stairs behind them.
Wyldon carefully pulled off Keladry's boots, breaches, and peeled her cut-open jerkin off to inspect her wound. It didn't look good. It appeared to be half an inch to an inch deep. Her right arm hung at an awkward angle and had started to swell up. Her light arm was better, only mild swelling. He had begun to clean the blood from around the gash, when Finlo barged in. He stormed over to Kel, running a quick eye over her. Immediately, blue fire leaked from his hands over her left arm and then the deepest parts of her wound.
Kel's eyes flicked open at a wail from behind the wall. Little Kel's nursemaid had just seen the wounded girl. Keladry brushed the healer's hand away. "Stop it. I'll live. Go heal Little Kel completely," she commanded with some false confidence. When Finlo hesitated she growled, "Now!" She knew from Wyldon that most of the realms other healers were in Carthaki, helping plague victims. Finlo left as quickly as he could.
Kel sagged against the pile of pillows behind her, sweat glistening on her forehead. Wyldon moved back to the bedside from pacing back and forth as Finlo had healed her. He placed a cool towel on her brow, as Kel slowly extended her left arm to her open chest. Seeing her, Wyldon reached for her hand, but she had already found the gash. She traced it with trembling fingers, ignoring the blood. A brief look of fear flashed over her face, not unmissed by Wyldon who grabbed her bloody hand.
"You're fine," he said gently, using a wet rag to wipe the drying blood off her fingers. Kel nodded her face mostly normal. Wyldon released her hand and cleaned the blood from around her cut, placing a healing salve on it as he wrapped her up in a length of linen bandages.
I'm such an idiot, she thought to herself, Why didn't I grab my mail?
Kel shook her head at her folly and grimaced when Wyldon lifted up her swollen arm. He ran expert hands over it and looked grimly at Kel. "I'm going to have to set this," he remarked slowly. Kel nodded and turned her head away; she didn't want to watch. She felt Wyldon place both arms and then twist her arm. She bit back a cry, thinking, I'm strong, over and over. Wyldon put a splint on her arm, murmuring softly to Kel, as she drifted out of consciousness.
She awoke five days later, the sun shining brightly on her face. She turned away from the sun to see Wyldon dozing in the chair next to the bed, his hand clasped in hers. She looked at him carefully through half-cracked eyelids. He appeared weary; he had bags under his eyes and his shirt was rumpled. A pitcher of water and a book lay on the bedside table. Kel sat up slowly, her wounds making themselves known. She squeezed Wyldon's hand gently; he awoke almost instantly.
"Kel," he rasped and then drank some of the water,"How are feeling?"
"I've been better. Is Little Kel alright?"
Wyldon nodded and then said slowly, "Finlo is dead. He managed to heal Kel and most everyone else. He wouldn't stop; he used his entire life force to keep healing before he collapsed. He and the dead were burned at sunset last night."
Kel shook her head, her heart heavy. She knew that Wyldon would take Finlo's death personally. "I need to take a walk, "she murmured, swinging her legs out from under the covers. She stood slowly and grabbed a fresh shirt and breeches from the chest at the bottom of the bed. She growled to herself as she tried to one handily pull on her breeches and shirt. Kel had one leg in the breeches and was trying to get her left leg in; she stumbled and strong hands caught her before she fell completely. Wyldon was smiling, hidden laughter in his eyes. "I'm glad you find it funny," she sniffed, "You could help you know."
He pulled her shirt over her head, and carefully eased her right arm through the sleeve. She was able to slip her boots on by herself. Wyldon rubbed her back gently, as they left the room, to walk around the empty hallways, stopping now and then to gaze out windows. They stood in front of a larger than normal arrow slit, watching the newly started rain. Kel rested her head on his shoulder and asked quietly, "Why are you so concerned about my health?"
The arm around her back tightened and he replied, just as quietly, "If you had died, I never would have forgiven myself. I should've sent you back to put more armor on or something. I was stupid and it nearly killed you."
Kel yawned and shook her head vehemently, protesting, "No! I should have known better. I was fool-hardy. It was hardly your fault." She yawned again. Without words, they left the arrow silt and headed back to the room, where she promptly fell asleep on top of the bed. Wyldon placed a quilt over her and resumed his seat by the bed, keeping one eye on her and one eye on his book.
Kel stood at the edge of the forest, watching the battle rage around her. She watched as Wyldon rode out, resplendent in shinning silver armor. It could have been cloth. The Scanrans attacked him from left and right; it was hopeless. Blood gushed from his many wounds, as he fell out of the saddle with a sickening crunch. Kel raced towards him, her vision blinded by tears. She knelt beside him, her hands shaking as she pulled him against her chest. "I love you," she sobbed, her salty tears washing away the blood on his face. She cried out in anguish as two men-at-arms dragged her away from Wyldon's body.
"Keladry! Calm down, shush. You're fine," murmured Wyldon, staring at her with curious eyes.
Kel took a shaky breath, tears running down her face; the dream had felt so real, she still half-thought Wyldon was dead. She gripped his hand tightly and then ran her fingers of his face and the scar over his eye, reassuring herself that he was alive and well. Wyldon pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes dry, his other hand pushing the sweat and tear wet hair out of her face.
When she seemed calmer, he asked gently, "What did you dream? What made you cry out so?"
Kel shivered, the dream was bad enough once, she didn't want to remember it again, but she said anyway, "I t was the battle all over again...except I wasn't fighting. You were there battling the Scanrans...your armor was useless. The Scanrans... they," her voice caught and she swallowed back a sob,"They killed you. And I had to watch..." She turned away, tears running down her face, dripping onto her shirt. "You must think I'm such a wimp."
"You are no such thing. You are a Lady Knight and you defended Cavall and its people, until you fell. Every knight, soldier, anyone who has taken part in a battle has such dreams of losing their loved ones. Others have the misfortune of watching them happen for real and be helpless," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Kel looked at Wyldon, and gazed into his deep brown eyes. She saw a world of hidden feelings and emotions. He leaned over her and eased his mouth over hers, kissing her softly. He drew away slowly and Kel pulled him back, matching his kisses with her own. When Wyldon drew away again, he said huskily, "I love you, Keladry."
"As I love you," she replied softly, feeling limp.
