Chapter Three: Fear
A wild battle cry as the two cruel-looking knights on powerful horses charged into the clearing. It was a few minutes before Adara realised she was screaming too, and next thing she knew she was running, running alongside her kin, running at the fierce men with death on their faces.
Adara's memory blurred, and there was nothing but pain, a sea of immense pain washing over her. And then, blissful unconsciousness.
Next time she woke it was dark. Firelight…yes, she could see firelight, reflecting on the grim face of a battle-scarred man in front of her. Then the pain came back in a rush, and Adara wanted to scream and scream: she wanted the sharp, piercing agony in her skull to end.
Adara woke with a start, sitting up sharply, drenched in cold sweat. Her breathing was ragged and fast, and she sat still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
She was in a bed in a small room: there was no window and no light save for the dim glow that came from under the door. The throbbing in Adara's head resumed, and she reached up to touch a clean bandage, tied neatly around the wound on the back of her skull.
Adara gently put her feet down on the floor, and stood slowly, letting her shaky legs slowly take her weight. When she managed to stand properly she walked slowly across to the door, and tried it.
Bolted, from the outside.
But what had she expected? Two of Arthur's knights had captured her and brought her back to Hadrian's Wall, for that was where she knew she must be. Only the Romans constructed such buildings: and she knew Arthur and his legendary knights were stationed on the wall.
She shivered slightly, aware of the cold air, and for lack of a better idea, crawled back into the warm bed.
Why am I here?
Thoughts and possibilities echoed frighteningly around her brain, and Adara unconsciously touched the brand on the top of her arm.
What if they knew I was a Daughter of Merlin?
The thought terrified Adara. The Daughters of Merlin were a group of fighting women, as brutal and vicious as the men. If the Romans had captured her because of what she was, they would not rest until they squeezed every bit of information out of her. She would return to her people scarred and broken. If she did return.