Title Thousand Mile Wish
Author Manic P
Disclaimer King Arthur and all characters relating to it do not belong to me. Any characters or events that resemble the movie obviously belong to that. Any other characters (i.e./ Thulio, Otri, etc.) belong to me.
Author's Notes … I really don't know what to say. This is embarrassing now. I didn't mean to take this long, I swear. Life got in the way. I've been working on this for a long time, actually. But, I realized something a couple of days ago: the 25th was the first year anniversary of when I started this story! So I had to finish the chapter. I had hoped to put it out on Monday, but it didn't work out. I think my betas have given up on me too, so I think I'm going to need another one. I want to thank my betas for sticking with me thus far, and give them kudos on their great work. So, because of the beta situation, this chapter is thus far unchecked. I apologise for mistakes. I looked it over as best as I could. Again, sorry for the wait, and enjoy this utterly boring chapter. The next one will have knights, I promise. LOL
Oh, and I wanted to run this by everyone to see if I'm figuring things properly. I'm figuring that it was about four days that passed from when the knights left for Marius', to when they came back. So in this story, by the end of this chapter, I am on the day that they will return, but they haven't yet (I'm figuring that they actually return late afternoon/early evening; this chapter ends early in the morning of the same day). I'm confusing myself. Gah.
Empty
The hill upon which I stand is the most notable feature in the landscape around me. No trees, no lakes, not even another hill can be seen. This strange, almost sea-like grass stretches out before me as far as my eyes can make out. The sky is dark with heavy clouds, pregnant with impending rain. The wind that tears savagely at my dress and hair carries with it the scent of salt, further telling of the storm that is soon to come. I wrap my arms around me, feeling the isolation deeply, and sit down in the tall grass to wait for whatever may come. The long, soft blades tickle at my legs and as time passes, I pluck a strand from the ground, sticking it into my mouth and chewing on the end. As the bitter taste of the grass floods my mouth, I am reminded of the afternoons I used to spend with my father, doing just this.
The sound of a horse's heavy hooves upon the ground startles me out of my memories. I turn, frowning deeply as I had not sensed any other presences around me. The horse is without rider and yet it seems to have a particular destination in mind. I stand, watching it approach, and am surprised to see it coming straight for me. I let the grass fall from my lips and begin to shuffle around nervously in place as the horse comes closer, worried that he might not see me. My anxiousness abates when the horse slows upon climbing the hill, his stride now filled with purpose. He stops right in front of me, his head bowed and his eyes hidden from view. I see now that he is not completely black. A spot of pure white has graced his forehead, and when I reach out to touch it, he gives a low nicker.
"Who are you, then?" I murmur, more to break the silence than anything else. He nickers again, lifting his head. I step back for a moment when I see his eyes, feeling as though I have seen them before. They are mysterious and dark, full of sorrow and joy all at once. I reach out once more and smooth my hand over the soft muzzle of the horse, stepping closer again. My eyes are still locked on his, and I begin to feel completely at ease with this creature. My heart contracts when I see the scars scattered across his strong face. Some are deeper than others, making me wonder just what this horse has seen in his lifetime.
He bows his head gracefully, and delights me by lowering his front half just enough for me to be able to climb up onto his back. Gathering the skirt of my dress in one hand, I climb on and let out a very girlish giggle, sounding far more carefree than I should. Like an arrow being shot from a bow, the great beast takes off, kicking up the earth beneath him. I grab onto his mane, but have no fear of falling off. Being on the back of this horse is like flying over a sea of grass. He would not let me fall.
"Are we to go home then?" I question, my words carried on the air along with my playful laughter. As if in answer, the horse shakes his head firmly. He continues to gallop, going so fast and yet, it appears as if we are standing still. I lift my arms and tilt back my head as I feel the rain fall finally. It feels cool and soothing against my skin, and I open my mouth to let some trickle down my throat. It tastes like Briton.
My comfort with the storm quickly deteriorates. The wind and rain increase dramatically and suddenly it feels like my back is being stung by a thousand bees. My heart races with a sudden, terrible fear. Something is wrong here; something is not right. The horse suddenly stops and I turn in place to see behind me. There is a fog slowly rolling its way behind us, thick and dank. I smell death on it, the scent of rot and decay. I let out a frightened whimper, a chill going up my spine. The pain increases on my back and I hiss, reaching back to touch it. I look down at my hands to see the thick blood that coats the tips before it is washed away. What happened…?
The horse moves sideways, anxious to continue to our unknown destination. The fog has almost overcome us both and it feels terrible. I spur the horse into our fast gait but all joy is gone now. My heartbeat thunders in my chest and ears and the pain becomes almost unbearable. I throw back my head and let loose a cry, announcing my sorrow and pain to the gods. The sound of rain has long since been replaced with the cries of the dead and dying; of men in their prime, of innocent children. The voices hurt almost as much as the pain on my back.
Soon, however, those voices melt and shift into one lone sound. It is the sobs of a child, and with every tear I hear her shed, my heart feels as though it is shattering. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and gasp, jerking away from the touch. Another sob shakes me and I am wrapped in confusion. What is this evil all around me? These voices and this fog, are they some demons, here to take me to hell with them? The weeping girl shouts something, but the wind carries it away. The horse suddenly stops in its tracks, whinnying in fear. I am drenched in rain and blood, my body feels as though the cold hand of the death god has touched me. The girl cries out again, and I respond, "What say you? Please… I don't understand!"
Then, with a clarity that scares me, I hear the little girl's words as if she had been standing right next to me. Her voice is like a sharp sting on me when she says my name. My head spins, and I cannot protect myself when the horse suddenly rears, pawing at the sky with its hooves. I slide off, and just as I fall to the ground, I feel as though I am being tugged away from the hellish world I have found myself in. I plunge, crying out for mercy, into a dark world.
A ragged scream of pain erupts from my throat as I spring upwards in bed. As soon as I make the movement, however, I regret it. I cry out again at the agony that tears through my body and fall back against something hard. I try to squirm away from the pain, cursing shamelessly, but my arms are seized by two pairs of slight hands and pinned to my sides. My vision swims as my strength flees and I try to put the pieces together as voices float pass me.
"By the gods… is she possessed?"
"No… I believe she is well enough… considering…."
"Kate? Kate, can you understand me?"
I frown up into the blur above me and blink a few times, trying to make out who this being is above me. Eventually, my vision corrects itself and I see Vanora staring down at me, her face pale and her eyes almost manic with worry. I swallow thickly, and glance over to the side. I am further surprised to see Thulio standing there, her scarred face visible in the dim light of my room. I smell burning wood and hear the sounds of night. Time has passed since…. I frown deeper, and then hoarsely question, "What happened?"
The two women exchange a glance, trying to make out who should be the one to explain to me why I am lying here, so disoriented and in such pain. But they need not worry. Even as the words fall from my lips my memory slides back into place. I cringe with every revelation of a new memory and I feel myself begin to panic, my breathing increasing to the point of light-headedness. Vanora seems to want to join me, twisting the material of her dress in her pale hands as she watches me, distraught. Thulio is impassive, looking at me as if waiting to see what I will do next. I bring my hands to my face and try to sort through the overwhelming inclination to slip into hysteria.
I roll onto my side, by far the most comfortable position, and curl up into a ball. My upper half has been bared due to my violent awakening and I hide my nakedness from the other women. I feel sick to my stomach, as though I had swallowed a heavy rock. The sensation of wetness on my back makes me shudder. The scent of blood on the air makes me want to retch, but I don't. The women finally take action, Thulio reaching out to touch my cheek with her bony fingers. She wipes at the sweat on my face and smiles a sad smile at me. Our eyes connect and I shudder, feeling the weight of events pressing down on my shoulders.
But as she gazes at me with those tragic eyes of hers, I feel myself become centered. Thulio has always had the most remarkable eyes, and the calm I see in them has always affected me to a degree. Unfortunately, lately the sadness in them has also come out in waves. Tonight, I am struck by both. Vanora, not understanding what is happening, presses, "We don't know what to do." She is frightened still, despite the fact that much time has passed, and cannot seem to still herself. She moves about the room constantly, touching everything that comes into her path. Thulio's voice seems foreign and strange when she speaks, saying, "Yes. Tell us what needs to be done." I swallow thickly and then murmur, "You would help a criminal?"
"You are no criminal!" Vanora suddenly screams, making me flinch in surprise. Her pretty face is twisted into a look of pure anger, and her eyes darken to the point of being almost black. She trembles with her rage, but I suspect that it stems not out of true hatred. It is fear that is making her this way. She takes a step towards me and slowly hisses, "Tell us how to heal you." I let my eyes drift shut and try to recall the proper method of healing wounds such as this. I shudder, trying to imagine what I must look like now. Rolling onto my stomach, the blanket now moved to my hips, I softly order, "Describe it to me."
Unsurprisingly, it is Thulio who speaks, not Vanora. Thulio's voice is low and methodical as she says, "Your skin is pink, where it is not broken, closer to red. There are five strips that have been cut open. Two are across, from rib to rib. Three run downwards, the worst of which is from the nape of your neck to the small of your back, and they all bleed." I reach around and Thulio guides my hand along the worst of it. I wince at the sting, but force myself to examine my wounds.
"Get a cloth and some water. Soak up the blood; make sure there is nothing else in the wounds." I tell them, my voice sounding dead to my own ears. I close my eyes as I hear them move about, trying my best to ignore them. My thoughts turn to the knights and I feel shame; shame that I have dishonoured our great lineage by my actions. I curse my stupidity and I curse my womanhood. Not for the first time, I envy men and their freedom. I start when I feel hands on my back, my muscles tensing as I feel a wet cloth carefully trace the bloody wounds on my back. There is silence now between the three of us, and I am glad for it. I don't know what to say or do now, and I don't particularly want to try to find the words. I am exhausted, though it seems I have been sleeping for quite some time now.
I think of the Bishop and instantly my hands grip the edges of the blanket and I clench my fists so hard that my knuckles turn white. I have never felt such anger and rage towards another human being, if he could really be called that. And yet, at the same time, I can't imagine coming into another conflict with him. With a sickening feeling, I realize that what happened was only a taste of the Bishop's wrath. Now that I have seen what he is capable of, I have no doubt that things could only get worse.
I am roused from my black thoughts when Thulio asks what is to be done next. Blinking slowly, I realize that they have already finished their task. I wish I could see what they have done, to be sure that they haven't missed anything, but I just don't have the stomach for it. Swallowing thickly and closing my eyes once more, I whisper, "There is a salve on the table, in the small black container. You'll need to put that on me. One of you will have to hold me down." Silence greets my words, and I know I have stunned them into it. It is Vanora who tentatively asks, "W-why would we need to do that?" My voice is bordering on irritation when I respond, "Because the salve stings terribly. I may try to get away and injure myself further."
Thulio returns to my side, and I only dimly hear them murmuring to each other. I wish that they'd hurry up and get this over with as they discuss. I want to forget about this whole thing, to push it out of my mind and pretend it never happened, and I can't do that with the job only half done. I am half-relieved when they finally move into place, Thulio with the salve and Vanora holding me in place.
The second the cold salve touches my wounds I try to move. It burns, more so than I remember, and I have to sallow a choked cry. Tears burn my eyes but I don't, or perhaps can't, let them fall. I grit my teeth, only half listening to Vanora as she attempts to soothe me with calming words as I endure this further pain. Every time they apply more, I gasp slightly, the stinging only increasing.
When they finally finish, I tell them to wrap me up as tightly as they can, from my chest to my waist, with the strips of cloth that I always have on hand. I sit upright with their help, unable to help my blushing when my body is bared to them. I feel exceptionally strange when they finish, as though I've been cloaked in my own despair. I feel so black inside that it's a wonder I have the strength to endure all this. I lie back down, exhaustion claiming me once more, and simply ask the other women to leave.
They hesitate, and I can just picture them exchanging a look between themselves. I try not to become angry, but when Vanora presses, "Are you sure that's wise?" I simply can't hold my tongue. I turn my head to look at her, narrowing my eyes to slits and simply say, "Get out." My words are like cold stones and they are effective. With a curt nod, Vanora sweeps out of the room, slamming her feet against the ground hard as she hurries away. I have hurt her with my ungrateful actions but I care little right now. The only thing on my mind is sleep and solitude. I turn my hard look on Thulio, but she does not seem to be affected the same way Vanora was. Instead, she returns the look with that tragic stare of her own. In time, I feel guilty. With only a glance, Thulio is speaking volumes on my behaviour.
When she too leaves, I feel no relief in the solitude I had craved. The shadows in the room suddenly become unbelievably sinister and I try my best not to give these new monsters faces. The loneliness that grows and gnaws away at my belly surprises me, but I find that I long for the company of neither Thulio nor Vanora. What I want, or perhaps more accurately who I want, is much further away. I can only hope that they are well and doing better than I am tonight.
I feel myself beginning to fade away again, my exhausted body no longer able to keep myself alert. I know I should worry for myself, that my safety hasn't been assured by any means and now that the others have left I am at even more of a disadvantage, but I find that I can't. It isn't bravado that makes me think 'come tomorrow, bring what you may'. It is the simple lack of strength in me.
Some time during the night I wake from my restless sleep, panting and sweating though my body is chilled to the bone. I struggle out of my bed and retrieve a blanket, wrapping it around me tightly. The next thing I become aware of is the bright light of morning. It seems almost like a personal snub from the gods when I see how lovely the day is to be. I hear the birds chirping merrily and the sounds of the sleepy village rousing and preparing for the day's work. I could almost believe that things were normal, were it not for the pain that radiates from my back and deep within my heart. I stare out at what little of the sky that I can see for a long time, the bitter anger inside of me building.
Events run through my mind on a loop, until I am no longer seeing the pretty blue sky but instead the crimson of my own blood staining the dirt. I am seeing the Bishop's black eyes and the sparkle of the necklace he dangled before me. I darkly curse myself for being so blind and so weak. I become obsessed with recalling the events and wondering what could have happened had I just done something differently. By the time noon comes around, I am trembling in the wake of emotion, curling up into a ball like a wounded animal, staring out at nothing.
I lift my head when my door opens, but lower it again when I see that it is just Thulio. Part of me is surprised that she is here, walking about in broad daylight for the first time since her accident. The other half of me is too caught up in despair to really grasp this and I find myself attempting to ignore her at first. Then the scent of food catches my attention and my stomach growls rebelliously. I lift my head again and, in a voice that I hardly can believe is my own, I croak, "Thulio?" She turns towards me, her lips twisted into a funny little smirk as she says, "I made you something. I thought you would be hungry by now." I let out a shuddering little breath, but find that I can't stay in the same state around Thulio. I feel guilty for even feeling so sorry for myself around her, considering what happened to her. I want to tell her this but one look at her scarred face makes me bite my tongue.
She helps me into an upright position and then offers me the thin soup she had made. My hand shakes hard as I attempt to eat and she is forced to help me hold the bowl. As I eat, she startles me by casually mentioning, "The villagers are asking after you." I want to snarl a reply as my bitterness rears its ugly head that they are only after gossip, but Thulio has timed her statement well. My mouth is full and I am unable to do anything but narrow my eyes at her over the rim of the bowl. She pushes on, ignoring my stare, saying, "They are worried about you, Kate. I believe they want their healer back." I am stunned by her words, and though I want desperately to believe what she is saying, I can't.
"I know you hurt," she continues quietly, "and you must be suffering greatly. But I must offer you some advice, and though I'm sure you don't want to hear it, I must insist." She pauses as I finish the meal and sets aside my bowl. For reasons that are beyond me, I remain silent and listen to what she has to say, more out of respect for her than any desire to hear her words. She sighs and then begins, "When I had my accident, I became angry. Thoughts questioning the events surrounding what happened plagued me long afterwards. Questions as to what I could have done to prevent it attacked my heart until I became bitter. I will not lie to you, I am still that way now. There is a voice inside of me that is always telling me that it was my fault, that there were thousands of things I should have done in order to protect myself. I doubt I will ever be able to combat that voice."
She looks at me then, the sadness on her face now morphing to a look that makes me wither beneath it, and tells me, "I see it happening in you now. I see the bitterness inside of you. I want… no, I need to tell you that you need to fight this. There were things that happened that you have to own, yes, but that doesn't place the blame at your feet. What happened was beyond what you, or anyone else but Bishop Germanus could help."
She throws up her hands in a helpless gesture and sighs, "Things happen, Kate. But it is up to us to determine whether or not we will become victims." She swallows thickly and looks away, her eyes now becoming distant, "I… I believe I am beyond hope. But you… you have a chance." I gasp softly when she says this, my father's voice suddenly entering my head, his last words to me ringing through my mind. 'Never let them break you.' I shake my head, wondering if the world has conspired against me to keep me from giving into despair. I give Thulio an even look and quietly say, "I am very tired." She studies me carefully, and then bobs her head as if giving me permission to rest.
But the moment she moves away from me, I instantly wish that she wouldn't go. I hear myself blurt out, "They tried to teach me to defend myself once." I hesitate, watching Thulio pause in mid-motion before turning to look at me again. I smile faintly as I continue, "Lancelot thought it was a good idea to try, anyway. He was the one who actually talked me into it, in front of the others, no less." My smile widens a bit and I quietly say, "They thought the idea of me wielding a sword was hilarious. They insisted on being allowed to watch. I've always wondered if Lancelot was just coaxing me into it for entertainment."
"What happened?" Thulio asks, sounding rather interested. I give a dry chuckle and tell her, "The second Lancelot gave me the sword; I knew I'd never be able to do it. It was far too heavy and I almost fell over under the weight." I shake my head a little and say, "He tried to show me how to use it, but I nearly pegged him in the back of the head. So… that was the end of that. I handed him the sword and walked out with what little dignity I had left. Told them I'd leave the protecting and fighting to them, I'd rather try to keep people alive. But I don't know how to-"
I look up, stopping abruptly, and stare at Thulio before softly finishing, "I don't know how to save myself." Now that the words are out, I feel myself shudder. Fear washes over me as helplessness returns. I can't protect myself, and I haven't any idea how I'm supposed to keep myself alive. I have relied on my friends for far too long, and so far my own safety has never become much of an issue. I have never felt this way before. Part of me wishes that I had stayed that day, to listen to what Lancelot had to say even if I couldn't actually put his words into practice. Perhaps he could have helped me.
"I miss them." I admit hollowly, staring at my hands. I've never said these words aloud to anyone; though I'm sure everyone must know it. I'm sure one would only have to look at my face to see the truth. I have always been loyal to them, offering anything I could to keep them happy. I see them as family, as brothers who would do the same if I ever asked. Yet… when I need them, they are never here. I wince at the thought, trying to shake it from my mind. I don't want to go down that path of thought; it could only lead to heartache. And yet the bitterness inside of me doesn't hesitate to show me all the times they should have been there for me and weren't.
"Do you think they do it on purpose?" I ask Thulio abruptly. She raises an eyebrow in confusion and I hastily explain, "Do you think they abandon me on purpose?" She is startled by my question, and I can't blame her. I have never questioned their actions like this before, so outwardly and bluntly. But I must know, and I must hear it from someone who is not a part of our strange little group. She sighs heavily, and then places a hand on mine. I bite my lip at the comforting touch, having missed such signs of affection.
"No, they don't abandon you at all." Thulio answers, "How could they? I have a feeling that the great knights are what keep you… you. I think they make up a large part of who you are. I think they are the reason you are still here." Her words, the second they are spoken, lift a heavy weight off of my chest. I feel tears sting my eyes, yet I can't seem to let them fall. I nod twice, and at least for the moment, I don't feel the despair I felt before. I have a sickening feeling, lurking deep down inside, that once the knights return I will be forced to confront my ill-begotten feelings towards them. I wrap my arms around myself, and in a moment of concern, I send a silent prayer up to the gods to protect the men that I care about so dearly.
Thulio takes her leave almost as quietly as she had come, but her words remain with me. Even as I fall asleep and find myself dreaming, her words play a central theme. I wake up once during the night and, hearing the sounds of drunken revelry out in the courtyard I am taken back to so many lonely nights of wishing. Feeling rather confused, my heart leaps into my throat when I hear the voices, thinking that the knights have returned and are celebrating their freedom. As my senses return to me, it slowly dawns on me that I'm only hearing the soldiers and my heart crumbles a little. I feel I should be close to tears but find that I can't shed even one. I struggle to sit up but find that I can't, my muscles so stiff and my back so tender that the barest movement tears a ragged cry from my lips. At first, the inclination to simply panic is overwhelming, but I somehow manage to talk myself down, to keep my breathing steady and even.
Though I am calm once again, I know in the pit of my stomach that not everything is alright. A cold sliver creeps down my spine and I close my eyes briefly. I know something is coming up, something terrible, and I am not sure I can endure it. I am so tired, physically and emotionally. I feel as though I have nothing left inside to fight with, despite the strength that Thulio and, I hope, Vanora are prepared to loan me. Defeat seems as though it lurks in every corner, and I find it hard to continue the fight when I feel the way I do. The spirit I used to have that Lancelot once called endearing has evaporated into nothingness.
I swallow thickly and whisper, "I'm so sorry, Father. So sorry. I failed you." I think of the knights, picturing their reactions if they saw me now, and begin to tremble. I bury my face in my hands and whisper, "Gods… I have failed you all."
Next chapter The knights return; Kate continues to struggle with her emotions.