Chapter Two: In shadows they come...
Honor is a virtue to live by.
It controls your morals and your respect for others.
It makes you a better person, but honor isn't something that should dominate your life.
Lady Tamaida of Ninequor to Teirra when she asked about honor.
A few days out from Corus, Group Nobility was preparing to set up camp for the night on their way to Teirra's home fief. Teirra helped Sereous and Jak set up camp. The other two riders were only two years older than Teirra and the most comical duo Teirra would ever meet, at least when they were together. They were constantly bickering about the simplest of things and always found time to help Teirra keep a humble head. Out of the seven Riders in Group Nobility, they came from the richest families, which didn't mean they worked less than Teirra and some of the others, they were just more proper, from their upbringing. It was what made the duo so much fun.
Teirra was unsaddling Prancer and rubbing him down as Jak began setting up a campfire to make the group dinner. Teirra doubted they would actually be able to eat what Jak cooked for them. He didn't have a great reputation for being a cook. Last time, Teirra had been ill from his cooking.
Sereous was setting up the packs and rolls that were left for them to unpack as the rest hunted for their dinner or scouted around them. Sereous was meticulously arranging them in one of her favorite defensive patterns. Teirra could never quite understand why she did it, only that she did. When the rest got back, Wyhon, their mage would protect them much better than anyone of them could ever with their eyes and ears, or Sereous' arragement.
Sereous dropped her own pack to the group with a thump. "What is this? Because we're the younglings, we get camp duty? Camp duty is the bottom of the ladder as far as I can tell. I don't like being at the bottom."
Teirra rolled her eyes, taking the usual complaint with a sigh. "But, take this into account, it could technically be seen as the most dangerous. We're unarmed for the most part and vulnerable without the other numbers, or Wyhon to protect us. They are separated and armed, so they can't be seen as a threat in most cases to a large group and can escape easier. Or, at least, I think so. We're in the open with packs, horses, fire and three un-Gifted people. We're sitting nestlings."
Jak groaned, tossing down dry sticks in the middle of the rock circle. "She's right, and I can't believe I'm saying that, but she's right. Sereous is right. It is the bottom rung of the ladder."
Teirra sighed. It was no use now. Their minds were made up and there was no changing that fact, even if the meanest Stormwing came swooping down and the only way to be rid of it was to change their mind. They were just being a new meal for the Stormwing in that case.
Teirra just went about unsaddling the other horses and rubbing them down. She didn't hear the rest of the complaints that other two were making, she was busy in her own thoughts and her own thoughts often forced out the voices of those around her.
In the pit of her stomach, she had a desperate want for something. She wanted revenge for her mother's death and she could think of nothing else, despite what she knew she should be thinking. Her father had taught her never to dwell on revenge, it was dishonorable, but surely, it didn't apply to this situation. This situation was personal and much, much different than the run-of-the-mill revenge rage. He would over look it.
Saka, Commander Opion's tall gelding, nipped at her sleeve, drawing her out of her thoughts and into the reality of the world. The horse stomped nervously and laid back his ears in aggression. Teirra watched him for a moment, reaching out with her magic and asking what was wrong, what she got back was a feeling of fear and predators approaching, not really words, but definite feelings. Teirra looked over her shoulder at Sereous and Jak, who were in a full swing argument by now, arms waving about.
Teirra bent to retie laces on her boot and picked up a rock and tossed it back at Sereous and Jak to gain their attention. Gaining it, she stood and walked by them in a route to her pack and crossbow, her preferred weapon of choice. As she passed them she whispered, "Horses are spooked, may be watchers in the woods."
Jak smiled and waved a hand playfully at her, though he knew the seriousness of what she said. He was clever enough not to react so alarmingly and question her sources. She had taught Jak to respect her communications with the horses her first week with the group when she told his mount to nip at him in a game that promised apples afterward. It was amusing at the time.
Sereous was more awkward as acting casual, she always was, despite Opion's tutoring. She got far too nervous too quickly sometimes. She slowly walked over to her pack at the edge of the clearing and furthest away, struggling in nervousness to get her sword out and her sharpening tools. She meant sharpen her sword, a normal activity for one in the Rider groups, but it looked rather clumsy.
The horses registered what was happening before any of the others could. Sereous cried out horribly as an arrow pierced her chest. She clawed at the shaft as she collapsed on the ground, crying in agony. Teirra bit her tongue to keep the bile back as she fought to see where the arrow came from.
"There!" Jak shouted and pointed to the trees before the now silent Sereous, who was either no longer conscious or dead. It didn't matter if they were quiet anymore.
Teirra aimed and shot. A man fell from the trees and landed just outside their clearing with a horrible thump that made Teirra scramble to turn around to avoid the sight. She dove to find another arrow in her back and reload it into the crossbow.
Run, hide, get out of here. I'll call you back when it is all over. Run! Teirra called to the horses through her magic. She needed to get them out of the fight. The group couldn't afford to lose a horse and the arrows were flying around. Go, Cloudsong! Teirra had to urge Sereous' horse one last time before he left with the others.
By now, three had come from the trees to their right and two more had come from their left. Teirra bet that at least four more were scattered around their perimeter to keep the others at bay. She felt a surge of fear and panic rip through her veins. Was this how her mother and the other women felt as they were cornered back home? Or were they even given a chance to be afraid?
Teirra let loose another arrow, which buried itself into the chest of one attacker. She couldn't even tell if it was an organized bandit group or just random thieves out for them, she was too busy trying to reload her crossbow and keep her vision clear.
Jak had taken down at least one more attacker before the circle began to close and the attackers moved in to charge at them. Teirra threw down her crossbow, knowing that if she survived, she would mentally kick herself for so careless a cast-aside. She bent to pick up her sword and stood just in time to fend off an attacker, who charged in early.
Behind her, where Jak stood and fought, she heard cries, several, which only meant that the other Riders had heard what was happening and rushed to help them. Teirra couldn't focus on that, though she was thankful. She had to focus on the two who were determined to send her to her grave.
She shoved off the first attacker to gain more ground only to defend herself from the other and swing away to stop another blow. Teirra wasn't strong enough for two fighters and not men twice her size. This was a task for someone like the Lioness or Lady Knight Keladry, not herself.
Teirra cried out as she realized that her second attacker was swinging at her faster than she could fend off her first to meet the other's blow. This was it, she thought, this is my end. But, Teirra was lucky and it wasn't her end. The first attacker's clothes, littered with fallen twigs and dried leaves, set ablaze, sparkling momentarily in the pale green color of Wyhon's Gift. Teirra would have to remember to thank the man for that.
For now, Teirra focused on beating this one man before her. His sword was good and well made, this close up, she could tell and he knew how to use it. Sick of playing by the rules and sticking to only fighting honorably with a sword, Teirra kicked her foot into the man's stomach driving him back. He looked familiar at that distance, like she had seen him before at the palace when she visited Taex.
The man glanced around himself and at the two men still left of his small group and with the other Riders clearly in view. He called for a retreat and backed himself slowly away from Teirra, bending low. When she moved to follow, he tossed dirt into her eyes and Teirra could only guess from the sounds that he had gotten away. Teirra cursed under her breathe for her carelessness and blinked away the dirt from her eyes.
Turning back, the group of Riders were already moving the seven dead attackers into a pile to be burned. Jak was bent over Sereous, who was dead, saying prayers. Teirra had to look away and find a bush to vomit in before she returned to the group. She had never seen someone loose their life.
She whipped her mouth on her sleeve as she walked back and kept her eyes on either the ground or the eyes of her fellow Riders. Iris, one of the older Riders in their group and the most battle worn next to Opion, found her first and patted her on her back.
"It's alright, horse-girl." Iris used Teirra's usual nickname among her friends. "There's no getting used to the aftermath of a skirmish. It's our job to deal with bandits like these."
Teirra nodded silently and tossed her black curls with a hand. "Sereous is dead, isn't she? We weren't prepared enough."
Iris stopped her and looked at her in the eyes, dark brown eyes matching Teirra's grey eyes. "Now stop that. Whenever someone gets hurt or killed you always say you weren't prepared enough, well let me tell you one thing, horse-girl, you will never be prepared enough for any situation. Sereous died honorably, that's what matters to you, honor, isn't it? You did all you could do by alerting them to the attackers. You can't be responsible for every action of every person all the time, or you'd go mad. Trust me, I know you, you'd drive yourself half crazy. Stop blaming yourself."
Teirra watched Iris's face for a moment and all its seriousness. She wanted to blame herself, it was easier than accepting the fact that Sereous had made the fatal mistake of going for her pack at the edge of the clearing. Teirra finally nodded when she realized that Iris wasn't going to let her go before she acknowledged her small lecture. "She died honorably, yes."
"Good, now, go call in those horses you sent away so we can set out for a new camp." Iris forced a small smile. "You had to tell them to run? Couldn't you have just said to hide and walk away?"
Teirra blushed a deep red and would have replied to a light comment about how running was so much more appealing, but with Sereous' death, she thought it was inappropriate. "I'm sorry, I'll try not to do that next time."
Iris laughed a little. "It's fine, horse-girl, just go and bring them back. If you can find a way to tell Cloudsong what happened, that would be great. I'm not sure Jak or Opion telling him would really get the point across. They don't exactly have a way with horses."
"I'm not sure if I can do that, but I'll try." Teirra shrugged a little.
"The Wildmage effects animals just by being around them, making them more human-like, I would expect that same things happens around anyone with a strong dose of wild magic, like yourself. I'm sure he'll understand." Iris patted her shoulder, just like Domitran had done a few days earlier, much the same way.
"I don't think that applies to me, but I'll try none-the-less. My brother always says to try, I cannot dishonor him now." Teirra replied, still doubtful in herself. Iris shook her head and squeezed her shoulder in a matter that the big knight might have. Teirra couldn't help it; she had to know. "Iris, are you-"
The older woman stopped and looked at Teirra. "Am I what, horse-girl? Spit it out, you know I hate unfinished thoughts."
Teirra thought twice about what she was going to ask. She shook her head. It didn't really matter much. "Never-mind."
"No," Iris stopped and squared off to her, hands on hips. "Spit it out. I'm not leaving until you finish."
"Are you Sir Domitran's mother?" Teirra blushed red for even thinking it and saying it out loud. What if she were wrong?
Iris laughed. "That's what you were trying to get out?" Teirra blushed deeper. "No, I'm not Sir Dommy's mother, I'm his aunt. So you've run into the big lad? Hmm, must have been the shoulder thing." Iris walked away mumbling to herself, leaving a red Teirra behind.
Teirra walked to the edge of the clearing, near where she'd encountered that familiar man. She set about trying to call each of the horses back, which was much harder than telling them to flee. She had to reassure each horse that the danger was past and how to find their way back. By the time she'd finally contacted Prancer, the last of the horses, she was exhausted and ready for a night's sleep. She wasn't looking forward to riding in the saddle tonight while they searched for a new camp.
She didn't even notice Wyhon, a handsome and a little rugged man of his thirties come up beside her and steady her as she swayed. "Next time," he told her, "don't aim for such a forceful command. Try remembering to tell them to stick close by. You aren't trained enough to reach so far. You aren't trained at all. Now someone will have to tie you to your saddle to keep from falling off like you did the last time."
Teirra blushed at the memory. Three weeks ago, she had to find the horses when she'd sent them off in an attack similar to the one that night. They had gone so far, that'd she had passed out after finding only half the group. She was lucky that Prancer was becoming smart enough and more comfortable with the other horses to bring them back. That afternoon, she'd tumbled to the ground after falling asleep in the saddle. Prancer was so worked up that it had taken them three hours to calm him down enough to move on. It wasn't a shining spot on her record.
"Come, horse-girl, let's get you cleaned up and rested a bit before we move on." Wyhon helped her back to her pack and sat her down. He wouldn't let her move until she had been fed and checked for any wounds.
Teirra remembered mounting Prancer, but she didn't remember the ride. Wyhon must have tied her to her saddle, like he said he would so she could sleep. All Teirra knew was that she didn't fall from her saddle.
Author's note on the chapter: This is a chapter that I'm not sure I like, nor despise. I want to establish the relationship Teirra has with the other members of her Rider group, but I don't want it to drag down the story I have in mind. I also wanted to establish that Teirra is extremely gifted in horse magic and that she has a history was clumsy mishaps. This was mostly just and introductionary chapter for characters with a little action to enhance things.
Note two from the revisions: I've done a little expanding and clarifying in a few spots, though this isn't one of the chapters that will need the most "fixing."
Chapter Three:
Sadness isn't something to be ashamed of.
If it is held back, it can destroy the heart.
It is honorable to be sad despite your father's words.
Lady Tamaida of Ninequor to her daughter in a letter after her grandfather died.