Chapter Seven: On knees and begging...
You'll be surprised with yourself, at what you can do.
That's the beauty of life.
Have faith in your own strength, doubt will take you no where.
Lady Tamaida of Ninequor to her daughter in a letter her first week with the Riders as a trainee.
It was barely past Midday and Teirra was busy helping Penolope instruct a few women of Slate Coast in basic hand-to-hand combat skills. Teirra always was happy to help with the task. She felt it was important that women knew how to defend themselves. Besides, at that moment, it was taking her mind away from what she had been prepared to do last night.
Teirra whipped the sweat from her brow with the back of a dirty hand, smearing dirt across her head, but it made no difference. The new smug simply blended in with the old smudge. She filled her lungs with air as Penolope explained what she had just done. It was always that way: Penolope explained while Teirra demonstrated. It was the way of life, she supposed.
"Lady Teirra!" A boy ran up to her, waving his arms and sweating from head to toe. "Commander Opion requests your presence immediately."
Teirra frowned, confused about such suddenness. "Immediately? I have to finish up here. Tell him I will hurry."
"He said that if you delayed, it would have your head should he have to come down and drag you away." The boy replied, still struggling from breathe.
Teirra nodded quickly. Opion didn't often give such threats without very good reason. She looked to Penolope who nodded her off in a dismissal. "When the Commander orders it, Teirra, you answer."
She took off at a run, by-passing her messenger friend without much trouble. Her long legs and strides carried her quickly to their camp where Opion was trying to saddle Pracer with all the trouble someone would have trying to saddle a bull. Teirra swiftly took the saddle from the man. "Behave," she ordered the horse and saddled him, then she looked to her commanding officer. "What is it?"
"You're going to the front." Opion replied quickly, mounting Saka, his own horse without a second thought. "The Lioness is requesting it and I'm not about to refuse her, though I hardly know why."
Teirra's blood began to rush. "The front? There's a battle going on? How can the city not know?"
"It's a ways off, now hurry up. Men are dying." Opion held onto Prancer's reigns as Teirra mounted up onto him.
They were away at once, even before she could settle herself into her saddle. It was a quick ride, the battlefield not far off from the city gates and slate walls. It was a veiled attack, made in the trees as any bandit would fight, but it wasn't a bandit skirmish. This fight had enough people to call it a full scale engagement. It was a hard fight to win on horses and on a field littered with large trees. Teirra knew it was serious before fully reaching it.
She hadn't forgotten what the Lioness had instructed her to do, either. The task at hand was going to drain her thoroughly, but she knew she had to obey. Teirra drew in a deep breathe and released it, closing her eyes. It would be hard to find the horses that were allied with the opposing side, but not impossible. She would simply had to find the horses that were unhappy with their riders and abused.
"What are you doing, horse-girl?" Wyhon rode up beside them, relieving Opion of his watch over her.
"I'm trying to concentrate. Please don't let me be killed while I sit here." She pleaded with Wyhon without opening her eyes. She didn't see the man nod, but she knew he did, nor did she see what he was doing.
Teirra forced herself to sit as still as possible and go to that place that allowed her to visit the thoughts of her horse-friends. She nearly cried out with the bombardment of it all. She had never attempted anything of this scale and without asking the horses for permission. She felt like an intruder.
Please, she cried out with all her strength, I don't mean to interrupt, but- She stopped, nearly losing her connection on the account that her head throbbed so much. I need to ask a favor, please! Those of her who are not of the King's Own, the Riders, or the Lioness, listen to me! A hundred rejections hit her in an instant. They could no more bow to the request of some girl when they could perish along with their riders. It was an honorable request, but one she had to refuse. Only a moment please! They men you are carrying, they are bad men! They helped kill me mother and possibly dozens of others, please!
But why should they care? A hundred thoughts conveyed.
Because if they can kill my mother, they won't hesitate to kill you. Teirra replied, trying to keep the calm in her mind.
They'll kill us for helping you. One voice was stronger than the rest. He answered her quickly and forcefully if Teirra could say the least.
I know it is a risk, she conceded guiltily.
Then why ask it? It was the same strong voice.
Because I need your help. You could make the difference in the tides of this fight. Please, I don't like begging, but I will. Teirra told them.
Make a difference? A few answered.
Teirra smiled slightly. One they that crossed between animals and humans was that of pride. Yes!
What does this 'help' entail? The strongest asked.
Toss them and run! I will make sure you are cared for if you run towards the stone walls. Please! Teirra conveyed what she could as clearly as possible. Horses didn't think in the way humans did and to Teirra, they were twice as stubborn.
Her head pounded with all the force of a winter blizzard back home and more. She wasn't even aware the tears running streaks down her cheeks at the pain. All she knew was searing, unwavering pain in her head. How could she have known all those thoughts would hurt? It had to be some bad joke.
Please! It was a weak and feeble attempt to beg for their help before she broke the connection.
She forced her eyes open, then snapped them shut when the light of the day burned a hole through her head, or so it felt. She opened them slowly and looked about her. The battle seemed to be dying down. How long had she been out of it anyway? Men were drifting back towards the gates of the slate walls.
Teirra slid herself out of her saddle and nearly fell to the ground and would have if Wyhon had not grabbed her arm and held her upright. She felt so weak and tired, but she told herself to keep awake. She wanted to go down and check for any wounded horses and pray for the dead ones. She felt a responsibility for them.
She started forward, but Wyhon's grip stopped her with a lurch. "I don't think it is best."
"I have to go and check them." Teirra told him sleepily.
"It will only hurt." He watched her carefully.
"I have to." Teirra repeated, trying to force more strength into her reply, but failing.
"Then I'm coming with you. No use in you passing out in the field that way." He wrapped an arm around her to hold her up and draped her own arm around him.
Teirra didn't have the strength to refuse his help.
Slowly, he led her through the trees, steering her away from as many of the dead and dying as he could. They had to stop twice for Teirra to empty her stomach. Wyhon remained silent and un-judging, which was a relief to Teirra.
Teirra stopped at the body of one dead horse, one she recognized as Cloudsong, whom had been passed on to Jak as a spare mount. Teirra's eyes filled with tears. First the rider, now the horse. She collapsed next to the body and stroked the mane with loving hands. "You were a good friend." The pain was so raw when she thought that she might have been the blame. Was it wrong of her to ask for their help? It took so much of their own concentration away from the fight.
"Alright," Wyhon hoisted her up. "Enough, we go back and no complaints from you, horse-girl."
"But there are more I have yet to see and-" She began.
"You won't see them. I won't have you blaming yourself for whatever it is you did. How is it that Iris always scolds you - Ah! They died with honor, fighting for their cause like any soldier. They were brave souls." Wyhon dragged her back to Prancer and his mount, Amos. He settled her onto Prancer's back with surprising ease and mounted his own horse. "And don't you go worrying about Jak, he's fine." He took Prancer's reigns, not trusting Teirra to lead him back and started forward.
It took moments before they were met up with Commander Opion, Iris, the Lioness and Sirs Alan and Domitran. Alan rode close to his mother and Domitran was close to his aunt, leaving Opion to greet them with a smile.
"Well, whatever you did, you did it well." He clapped Teirra on the back, who winced ever so slightly.
"Goodness, Opion, you have to kill the girl even further?" Iris smirked and scolded their commander, giving a wink to Teirra all the while.
"It was well, no doubt," the Lioness smiled. "It will be a story for Daine to hear. Perhaps we could even get it from the girl's own mouth." Teirra blushed and smiled weakly, tilting dangerously in the saddle. Alanna reached out a hand in instinct to balance Teirra. "After some rest, after we all rest and get out of this heavy and itchy mail."
"I heartily agree, Lioness," Domitran commented and shifted in his saddle in a mock effort to reach an itch. It made the sleepy Teirra smile.
"I have to help Penolope," Teirra told them slowly.
"I don't think so. You're off to bed for a good nap and a good supper." Alan came up beside her and straightened her on her saddle as she tilted dangerously.
Teirra woke sometime during the night as far as she could tell. She lay on a cot wearing only her breeches and shirt. She couldn't even remember where she was, really. What she did remember of a searing pain in her head as she sat up. Teirra groaned quietly.
"You're finally up." A male voice made her turn. A tall figure stood in the doorway of the room she slept in, flanked by another figure just as tall.
"Taex?" Teirra couldn't stop the wide smile that spread across her face. "How long have I been out?"
"A few days," he came to sit beside her, then held a finger to his lips. "Others need their rest." He indicated to the other injured laying on cots, fast asleep.
"A few days?" She whispered. "It took us nearly a week or more, how did you get -"
"A single horseman can ride faster than a company. It doesn't matter does it? I had to come and check on my baby sister. You are, afterall, the Lady of Ninequor." Taex bent and lifted a small cup of tea to her lips. "Drink."
Teirra didn't fight the order and willingly sipped the tea she loved so dearly. It was then that she looked up to see the other figure standing nearby. She shot a curious look at her brother.
Taex smiled. "Count Samual of Slate Coast, meet Lady Teirra of Ninequor. She is your horse-girl." He winked at her.
Teirra bowed her head and well as she could manage. "An honor, m'lord."
"I always check the wounded." Samual replied. He had a gentle face with smiling brown eyes and long blonde hair pulled back in a horsetail. He was well kept, but dressed casually with a dyed shirt of red and well made breeches. The Count wore a decorated sword at his hip and rested a large hand upon it. "Come, Taex. We must let the wounded rest. We expect you at breakfast tomorrow."
"We?" She looked at Taex in confusion.
"Just come, Teirra." Taex sighed, waiting for her to ask questions in her usual fashion. Her brother put up with her questions better than anyone she knew.
She nodded and watched as they left. She settled herself so that she could sit comfortable and sip her tea. It made her happy beyond words to see her brother here and looking so much better than she had heard. He would be alright, she decided.
Once she finished with her tea, she set the cup beside her cot and settled in to sleep until dawn. Teirra wasn't going to waste another day sleeping away. Besides, she had an aching feeling that Grufford had been up to no good as she slept.
Author's note: AH! I have no idea how this came about, but I do like it. It is bringing me in the direction that I want to go. But I am finding that I will have to dig up Wild Magic and reread it before I go too much further. I need to refresh.
Leave a comment, I love comments, even if it is just a good, bad, or a horribly criticizing remark.