Chapter Thirteen: Let it end...

One door always opens when another is shut.
It is up to you to honor your dreams by accepting that.
Hope is always here.

Lady Tamaida of Ninequor to her daughter when Taex went to be a page.

Teirra found Taex sitting by the evening fire with Commander Opion, Wyhon, Iris and Alan. They were laughing over some joke that Iris had told, everyone except Opion whom Teirra did not expect to laugh. He was far too serious for that sort of thing. She walked over to them and stood behind the group, facing her brother across from the fire.

He looked up, still laughing. His laughter stopped when he looked at her face. "Teirra?" He moved to stand.

"You knew?" Teirra asked quietly, her voice filled with anger and hurt. The others turned to look at her curiously.

"Knew what?" Taex stared at her quizzically for a moment before realization dawned on him a moment. "Teirra, father asked me not to say anything."

"So you were just going to let me keep believing my dreams could come true? Taex, I could have come to grips with this before now! I could have had time to… To do something." Teirra stared at him with eyes filled with hurt and anger.

"It isn't the end." Taex told her gently. "I'm only doing as he asked. How do you know?"

Teirra could do nothing but stare. It was the end for everything she had wanted to be. It was different for him, he was on this way to becoming a knight. She would never get that chance. All she had were the Queen's Riders and now that was being taken away from her. It was her identity that he was taking from her.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she drew deep breathes to calm herself. Then she reached into her jacket where she had stuffed the crumbled letter. She raised it to her face so he could see it and let it drop to the ground. Teirra turned and left the camp fire behind her.

It would end tonight, she decided. It could not go on any longer. She went to Prancer and simply slid onto his back as he patiently knelt for her. Teirra sat there silently for a moment before Prancer nudged her with his nose on her knee.

"Where is he?" She asked darkly.

I will ask, but you owe me quite a few apples by now. Prancer remarked wryly. Teirra would have smiled were she not so focused on what she had to do. You won't be allowed to be a Rider anymore.

"I know," she answered quietly, "but it doesn't matter anymore."

Prancer left the camp at a gallop, just missing Jak who was coming back from caring for the horses in her absence. Teirra paid little heed to him. She didn't have the time nor the patience to speak with her friend.

"Horse-girl!"

She leaned close to Prancer's neck as the horse picked up his pace, always careful of the trees he was running through. They broke into a clearing, a patch that must have been burned only a short time ago. Both horse and girl stood in desperation and indecision for a moment.

"I thought you knew?" Teirra asked at a whisper.

I thought so. Prancer answered indifferently.

Suddenly Prancer reared and gave a loud cry of pain, tossing Teirra back over his rump and onto the ground. She could think of nothing but trying to breathe for a moment and once she caught it, she flipped herself over and scrambled to Prancer's side, desperate to know what had caused her friend to toss her so carelessly.

The horse lay on the ground, an arrow deep in his shoulder. Teirra's hand wavered around the arrow shaft, tears stinging her eyes and running down her cheeks. Her determination was weakening with every shaky breathe the horse took. Prancer's head looked around at her and then rested back down. Go, I'll be here.

Teirra's lips quivered and she bit them to keep them still. Slowly, she pushed away from her dear friend and stood. She stood there for a moment before turned around in a complete circle. She had to find him and make him pay. He was obviously close, so if she ran, she could find him.

She looked back at Prancer's wound and judged the direction the arrow had come from. Narrowing her eyes, she took off in that direction, ignoring the tiny twigs that tore at her arms and legs. They were mere cuts, nothing she couldn't survive. Prancer had suffered worse; her mother had suffered worse.

His footprints weren't hard to track. He wasn't looking to be secretive, only to escape; that would serve Teirra just fine. Let Grufford run while he could, she would catch him. She was tired of this man who made her hunt so easy.

An arrow whizzed in front of her and she whirled to face her attacker. He had set up a trap he knew she would walk right into. He stood firmly before her, crossbow still raised and bolt-less. He stared at her, cold and unfeeling. The lack of emotion struck her heart as if the bolt had actually hit her. She never expected a human being to be so cold facing any opponent.

Lazily he tossed his crossbow aside, not caring whatever it hit or whatever hit it. Teirra would not have tossed her crossbow as he had tossed his. Of course, there was that one time when she had first met Grufford, but she didn't think of that now. He drew his sword and smirked at her.

"So, it comes to it at last. There's no getting around it, either you will kill me or I will kill you. You are getting in my way far too much these days, and all for ridding you of your mother." Grufford shook his head and took a few steps toward her.

Teirra stared at him with a trembling heart. How dare he cast away so carelessly aside the woman she had held on such a high pedestal. She gripped the hilt of her sword and slowly drew it. She had been waiting for this moment for so many days and yet it was here and she found that she was terrified that she might actually kill this man. It went against her honor, her every fiber.

Grufford laughed at her heartily. "You can't do what you set out to do. How very weak of you. How very honorable of you."

Teirra looked at the blade of the sword, so smooth and clean. She could just make out her own reflection, with tears running down her cheeks and dropping from her chin to land on the smooth metal. "I am honorable; more than you."

"Oh, I don't deny it." Grufford came at her then, forcing her eyes and her sword upward to protect herself.

The man was stronger than she, swinging blows far harder than she, herself could ever inflict, no matter how she may have worked. She couldn't get an offensive attack. All Teirra could do was defend herself. She didn't remember him being that aggressive that day that Sereous was killed.

She ducked below a high swing and danced around Grufford, kicking a foot at his knee. He went down, kneeling, but only for a moment and quick enough to block off her attack. The two parried, Teirra was just able to take offense a few times before she was forced back into a defensive position. If she had been watching this fight as a spectator, she would have bet on Grufford.

Grufford spun back around at her and Teirra tried to jump out of the way. She wasn't quick enough and paid a heavy price. The steel found her hip, slicing deeply into it. She jumped back in reaction and fell to the ground in sheer pain. Teirra struggled to catch her breath, which came raggedly and quickly. The pain was so intense, she had never felt anything quite so intense.

Grufford swung at her, meaning to kill her then, but she had brought herself to her knee and raised her sword to fend him off. Her grip was weak from blood loss and the sword flew out of her hands when it connected with Grufford's sword and strong swing.

Teirra fumbled to grab her dagger and a bolt that she always kept with her for emergencies, though she didn't know what help it would be now.. Grufford walked up to her as she held it before her, her face now pale and her hand shaking. "You were so strong before. They've weakened your heart," he muttered to her.

"They've… They've strengthened… it." Teirra whispered.

"No, my dear, pretty horse-girl, you are wrong. They've made her dependent upon them for help. They've made you into a tool. You're just another weapon in their arsenal." Grufford shook his head at her.

"What?" Teirra stared at him, confused by what he was telling her.

"You're only use is your 'wild magic.' You're nothing more. What use are you without it? You are just another soldier to die for them. You're just another silly girl that thought she could be a Keladry or an Alanna. You're not even close." Grufford glared at her. "They are nothing without the men that made them."

"Liar." She whispered.

"What?" He smirked at her. "I can't hear you, horse-girl."

"LIAR!" She shouted. "They are more than you would ever have been. They stood their ground against the 'men that made them.' They believed in their dream. They're stronger than you."

"But you're not." Grufford stood smugly before her.

Teirra opened her mouth to replied, but never had a chance to say anything. Hooves flew at Grufford, knocking him to the ground several feet from where he had been standing. Teirra, forcing herself to move, ran over to the crossbow and fitted her extra bolt to it.

She stalked over to where Grufford lay and turned him over with her boot. He looked up at her with hatred in his eyes. He reached for his sword, but she stepped on the blade and put her weight on it. She aimed the crossbow at his chest. "I looks as though I am stronger than you."

"But who's going to help you? You're bleeding. You won't last long." Grufford growled at her through clenched teeth.

Teirra looked at him, knowing he was right, but she had one gift that he didn't have: wild magic. She took as deep a breath as she could manage and reached out for a horse. She aimed for the camp, for the horses that she knew the best. Teirra found Wyhon's placid Redwood and Penelope's nervous Fidget near the closest edges of the camp.

Friends! They looked up at the sound of her voice. I need help; Prancer needs helps and quickly. Please get Wyhon, Redwood. I need him, please.

What for? The older horse sighed, clearly not hearing the near panic in Teirra's cries.

We've been hurt, please, Redwood, just this once. Please. I don't know who else to ask. Teirra begged, feeling herself weaken as her wound went unattended. She didn't get a response, but she sensed that he was doing as she was told, however he planned to do that.

When Teirra came to her senses, Grufford was watching her carefully. She readjusted her stance to seem stronger, but the man wasn't fooled. He shoved at her, making her loose her balance and fall back. It was only by twisting herself that she managed to land of her good hip and keep the crossbow in her hand.

"I wouldn't." A dark voice came to her rescue. Grufford froze in place. "Dommy, watch him."

Teirra shifted to look at who had saved her. Domitran winked at her as he took up guard against Grufford and Alan was coming to kneel at her side. She could always trust the knights. "What took you?"

"Teirra, are you…" Alan stopped short when he saw the blood stain on her hip.

"Just a cut." She managed a small smile.

"I can clot it for now, but we have to get you back and quick." He told her firmly. "Now, relax."

Teirra took a deep breath and closed her eyes. If Alan did anything, she couldn't feel it. Of course, her hip had gone numb with so much pain a short time ago. When she opened her eyes, she had an urgency to find her dearest friend. Prancer! When he didn't answer, she looked around wildly.

"Teirra…" Domitran stared from his position, but stopped. She had already found what he had been trying to protect from her.

Prancer lay on the ground unmoving; un-breathing. Teirra felt her heart stop. Desperately, she crawled over to the horse and cradled his large head in her hands. A different sort of pain overcame her, tearing at her soul.

"He's dead." Alan told her quietly, standing next to Domitran.

Teirra already knew. He had gone before she could have said good-bye. She stroked his muzzle lovingly, hardly touching him. "I wasn't ready. You said you'd been there. Why couldn't you have just stayed put. I need you." Her words were quiet as the tears fell from her dirt stained cheeks.

Several days later, Teirra sat on her cot, stitching up one of her coats that needed repair. Her hip had healed fine, though she had asked that the superficial had been left to heal on its own. She thought it always best to let the body heal itself when it could. The days were lonely without Prancer and she found herself slipping into a deep melancholy that she didn't wholly like.

Grufford was taken prisoner and would be tried for treason once they returned to Corus. The Lioness was leaving some of the King's Own behind to guard Slate Coast while the rest of them returned home for the trial. Teirra was not looking forward to it, but she knew that she could be a key witness.

"Teirra? You wanted to see me?" Commander Opion came and sat by her side stiffly. He had been one of her most constant visitors, despite what he would say.

"I did." Teirra set her sewing aside. Nervously she straightened the edges of her blanket until she found that she could speak once again. "I know what I did was stupid and could get be kicked out of the Riders. A Rider doesn't just run head-strong into a situation like I did. I would like nothing more than to be a Rider, you know that; half of the Own knows that. I would give anything, but I realized something over the last few days. I can't be a Rider. I can't be the one who runs into a situation and drags the group in after me to save me. I can't be the example that a Rider has to be to the people." She looked down at her hands. "I'll be eighteen in two weeks and I have to marry soon. I need to help my fief. My father can't do it anymore. I need to leave, commander. I have to leave." She let her tears fall into her hands.

Surprisingly, Opion rested his weathered hand into her hands. "Of course you do. Child, you are destined for so much more than the Queen's Riders. We need someone like you out there. You can do what we can't. Just remember Group Nobility."

Teirra looked up at him, his face shockingly gentle. "I will, trust me, I will." Encouraged, she leaned over and gave the hard man a hug. He awkwardly patted her back, making her laugh a little. "Thank you." He squeezed her hand and left.

Author's note: Oh, goodness, it is almost the end! What's a girl supposed to do! Well, it is a relief to have this chapter out of the way, but the most difficult chapter is next. All those horrible holes to fill… I guess I have to go and get my shovel… Stupid holes…