a/n: You know, with all this angst and action, I just wanted to remind you that romance will be coming back into play amid all the drama. I feel bad as I look back at the first couple of chapters, how nice and sweet they were, and now we're here. It will lighten up, I promise. And we're only half-way or so through the story, so there's definitely more to come.
I hope you all are still enjoying this! This is a long chapter. Let me know your feedback! It really helps!
Vindicat Se De
Nasica knew they were close. For all her dislike of this assignment, she still felt the excitement of impending confrontation. She could smell the salt in the air. If her instincts were any indication, they would find the marauders, the girl and the scout.
She was ready for it. Her bow and arrow were still in hand, and she had a long dagger strapped to her side. Yes, she was ready. She and Lennor would lead the king and his knights to the marauders, rescue the girl if possible, and then head back to life. She looked forward to it—a friend of hers was expecting a baby soon, and she wanted to be there for the birth. She preferred new life to old death.
The hawk had returned, and suddenly it called out. Nasica frowned, glancing up at the bird, and then ahead. Was the fowl warning them?
She heard Arthur unsheathe his sword. The knights followed his example. Nasica wasn't a real believer in this bird, but she found herself raising her bow.
And then she saw movement. Her fingers tensed, so close to releasing the arrow. But she didn't see a marauder, or burly, savage man. Instead she saw a young woman, her hair messy and her clothes messier.
"Jaelynn!" It was Bors who yelled out. He kicked his horse forward, and galloped close enough until he could reach her. Nasica noted that the girl—Jaelynn—had her hands tied in front of her. Bors was so busy coddling the girl that he didn't notice. Nasica pulled her dagger free and approached the girl.
"Bors, they're killing him," Jaelynn was saying. Nasica raised an eyebrow. She got between the girl and Bors, and cut the ropes from Jaelynn's wrists. Jaelynn shot her an appreciative look.
"Which way?" Nasica asked. She heard the slight eagerness to her own voice, but she wanted to finish this soon, and coddling the girl more would just delay.
"Jaelynn, where are they?" Arthur said behind her, still atop his horse. The girl's brown eyes were large and fearful, but not for herself. She swallowed and then straightened her stance.
"This way," she said, turning back the way she'd come. Nasica had to give the girl credit for that. She shot a grin to Lennor, who seemed just as surprised, and then all took off after her.
-0-0-
When the marauders returned, wondering why they hadn't heard from their comrade yet, they were understandably angry. Tristan smiled tiredly as they shouted at him and stood over their friend's body.
He hadn't heard any commotion till now, and he was pretty sure he was conscious for most of the time. Jaelynn must have escaped successfully. Good. One thing that was going right.
But now, both because of their comrade's broken neck and Jaelynn's escape, the pain would start again. Tristan fully expected it. He found, though, that he was in far less pain if he just didn't move. That strategy wouldn't work much longer.
The easterner's eyes narrowed at the knight. Tristan could hardly see the man's eyes. Maybe it was the dim light, or maybe it was some side-affect of the spikes and pain.
"You will pay," the easterner vowed. "For him and village." Estho and Korab grabbed Tristan, meanly handling him over his wounds. Tristan went blind for a moment as the pain seized him. He gasped, or maybe he yelled out, but it came out quietly since his voice was gone.
"You will pay, you Sarmatian scum," Estho hissed in his ear. Tristan turned his thoughts away from the pain. He was fine if he was to suffer for what he'd done. He wasn't sorry about the guard; he'd tried to hurt Jaelynn. But for the village, Tristan was content to die.
The rational side of him said he couldn't have known Decia would be rescued by Romans. But the other side of him told him he was a fool for not thinking of that. Hadn't his time in Rome taught him anything about Romans? It was only a matter of time—he'd doomed the village.
They dragged him back to the sea cave's entrance. The waves lapped in at the start of the cave. The marauders pulled him along, and dropped him in the middle of the tunnel between the sea and the depths of the cave. Tristan had no fight in him. He just winced at every movement and jolt he felt.
Korab and Estho tied his hands and feet. Tristan thought that was a bit funny. He could hardly move anyway. There were two stakes in the rocks, and they pulled on his limbs so the ropes were tied around the stakes as well. Each pull made Tristan want to scream, even if he would be heard.
He lay on the rocky ground. His eyes followed the easterner, who moved towards a spiky mass dripping on a rock ledge. Tristan felt his heart race. He knew what it was.
The easterner broke two spikes, and walked calmly, like an executioner, towards Tristan. An executioner would have been more welcome. Tristan didn't move though. He made himself hide any apprehension, and just wait.
Suddenly, the easterner stopped, and turned back to his men.
"Go," he said. "I speak with him alone."
Tristan glanced at the marauders. They didn't seem entirely happy about that, but they retreated to the other corners of the cave. The easterner turned back to Tristan. He sat by Tristan's side, and Tristan was confused by the look he had on his face. No longer was it intent on pain and suffering. Instead, the easterner looked . . . sad.
Even so, his voice stayed steady, and his eyes darkened as if he were steeling himself.
"Why did Arthur take you as knight?"
Tristan blinked. Why ask this now?
"I hear he is good man, but he takes assassins as knights," the easterner continued. Tristan wondered if he was actually curious or just trying to find more reason to hurt him. The easterner jabbed him in the side, sparking a new wave of pain through the wound. Tristan winced, gritting his teeth together.
"I was—" Tristan couldn't finish right away as his throat grated and made him cough. He tried to continue in his raspy, voiceless whispers. "I was a knight before."
"Hmm," the easterner grunted shortly. "He's no man of justice."
Tristan clenched his teeth together. He was being baited, but the easterner wanted answers, didn't he?
"He is," Tristan said. "He had compassion."
The easterner looked amused at that.
"Idiot," he said simply. Tristan raised an eyebrow—did he mean him or Arthur? "Where I come from, assassins are killed."
Tristan looked away, a slight smile on his lips.
"They should be."
This surprised the marauder. It was clearly etched on his face.
"You want me to kill you?" he asked. As if to show his support for it, the easterner held up the sea creature's spikes.
"I wouldn't blame you," the scout whispered. He looked at the easterner steadily, more steadily than he felt.
"Why my village?" he asked next. "It would be better you came and killed them yourself." Instead of the Romans. Yes, Tristan had to agree. He'd seen how badly Roman soldiers behaved, how they desecrated anything they could if they had a little leeway. If he'd killed the village himself, it would have been a cleaner death.
He couldn't look the man in the eye. Tristan stared at the stake where his feet were tied.
"It was meant to punish Decia," he said.
The easterner looked at him, his expression softening, pitying. Tristan was confused by that.
"We killed her and the Roman soldiers," the easterner said. His tone was conversational, all of a sudden. "It took time. Each death felt same." The easterner turned his gaze down the tunnel, at the sea, and the daylight shining there. "No satisfaction."
He glanced back at Tristan. "It is same for assassins."
"I killed because I had to," Tristan replied quietly. He winced as a sudden pain flared through him. The easterner quirked up an eyebrow.
"No satisfaction?"
Tristan thought about it. Did he get satisfaction from killing? Not like that—not as an assassin. He thought of Germanius, and when he'd killed him.
"Just one."
The easterner smiled. He eyed the spikes in his hands, and then dropped them. Tristan frowned, but the easterner stood and turned to the cave.
His men were standing there, clearly not as far away as the easterner originally ordered. Estho in particular was close, standing on the main tunnel floor, and looking like he was about to explode.
"Have a nice chat?" he asked sarcastically. Tristan felt his body tense. Was he crazy from the pain or was Estho confronting the leader?
"It is time," the easterner said. "We stop."
Estho sneered at him, and the marauders bristled. Tristan clearly heard the anger emanating throughout the cave. Then Korab stepped forward.
"We've taken this too far," Korab said, echoing the easterner's meaning. "We set out to take revenge on anyone who had connections to our village."
"It is too far, for this one," the easterner said, nodding at Tristan. Estho stepped forward.
"That's easy for you to say," he spat out. "It wasn't your wife we found mangled because of him!" He gestured violently at the scout. "We came here to track those responsible, and we found him! We finish this!" The thought came briefly to Tristan that Estho reminded him of Galahad.
The easterner glared at him, at all of his men but Korab.
"It ends, now." He turned back to Tristan, and removed his dagger. He went to the scout's hands to cut the ropes away. Despite the situation, the easterner bore a saddened expression as he looked on Tristan.
And then, Tristan held the thud of an arrow as it forced its way through the easterner. The man swayed, stunned and dying, before falling by Tristan.
The marauders roared. Tristan hoped Estho would be the next to go, but he watched helplessly as the marauders cheered Estho's action. Korab looked enraged, but he was stabbed in the back before he could do anything.
Estho and the other marauders turned to Tristan. Estho broke off four more spikes, fresh from the sea creature, and moved to Tristan. The scout drew a deep breath.
It was Estho who did the honors this time. He inserted the spikes through Tristan's flesh again. They were in new spots. His left side. The underside of his right forearm. Another spot in his calf. And the top of his stomach, weaved into his skin and back out, like a needle holding cloth in place for a stitch.
His hoarse screams met the marauders' laughter. They mocked him, imitating his screams with no voice. The humiliation normally would have bothered him, but not now. His body burned, the new surge of poison from the creature spreading through his body. The stinging fire was almost too much to bear.
He wished he would pass out, but he couldn't make himself.
The marauders moved away, back to the rocky ledges to witness his torment. That's when the sound of waves registered to him. He felt droplets of seawater hit him. Moments later, the sound of waves came closer, and then the water splashed a bit more.
The tide.
The next wave came, and it washed over him. The salt stung his wounds, and Tristan's mouth opened to express his pain. The water just flooded his mouth.
The wave receded, but just as quickly another was back. It covered Tristan's whole body this time. The worst was the movement of the water. It made his whole body move, and also the spikes. Someone might as well have been jiggling each wretched spike around in his flesh.
They were laughing still. Had they even stopped? Another wave came in, washing over Tristan and beyond. Each wave kept him underwater longer, and he knew it was only a matter of minutes before the tide would flood the entire tunnel.
Just a few more minutes.
Despite the torment he felt physically, he was relieved.
-0-0-
"Stay here, Jaelynn," Arthur commanded. The king shot a look to Galahad, and the knight nodded and stayed back with her. They stood before a small hole in the earth, where Jaelynn said she'd crawled out of a sea cave.
He squeezed through the dirt and found himself in the dark cave. Bors, Gawain, and Lennor followed. Nasica parted company a ways back, going around another way, and Arthur had to admit he was glad to be rid of her for a little while.
The rocks were crammed around him. Arthur wondered if Bors would fit through. He moved ahead, not waiting for Bors or Gawain or Lennor.
He had to get to Tristan. His blood ran cold when he heard what Jaelynn said. "They're killing him."
That couldn't happen. He just wouldn't stand for it.
He ran through the tunnels, following his senses—until he heard laughter echoing down one way.
-0-0-
Nasica watched. She felt ill, seeing what the marauders had done. Each time a wave receded, she saw the Sarmatian scout tied to the ground, with long black spikes sticking from various parts of his body. The marauders watched him greedily, feeding on his suffering. The scout was drowning, she knew. He wouldn't last much longer.
Nasica clung to the rocks, hanging down and pressed against the cave walls. The seawater pushed by her, making her move slightly, but no one had seen her. There were seven marauders that she could see, plus at least two dead. She wondered what happened—they looked fresh.
No matter what she thought about the scout, she didn't want him to die like this. Her eyes flickered to the darkness in the cave, beyond the men. Where is Arthur?
A battle cry echoed through the tunnel, and Nasica almost slipped from her position.
About time!
He, Lennor, Gawain and Bors immediately charged the men. With their first strokes, two marauders fell. But then the element of surprise was gone.
Nasica let herself drop. She fell into the water, and the current pushed her forward. She swam with it, and dove beneath the water where she thought the scout was.
She touched the bottom of the rocky cave. Feeling around, she came up empty. Nasica glanced further down the cave. Three more marauders were dead. Two left.
The waves pulled her back a bit, and at that moment, she saw the scout. His head was tilted up, trying to get air. He was choking on the water. Nasica dove with the next wave. As she swam beneath the water, she pulled out her dagger.
She opened her eyes beneath the water, ignoring the salty sting. The scout lay there, but he didn't struggle. The spikes probably deterred him from it. Nasica swam to his hands, still tied to the stake. She cut through them quickly, and then pulled on his arms. She saw his mouth open as the movement jarred his forearm where the spike was.
She kept pulling him up, and his head and hers broke the surface. Immediately, she went back down, and cut the bindings around his feet. Her eyes zeroed in on the spike through his calf. Nausea turned her stomach, but she ignored it as best she could.
Coming up to the surface, she found that only one man remained. He dove at her and the scout.
His eyes were wide, and the look on his face was one of madness. Nasica grabbed Tristan around the waist and started to swim. She heard him gasp, and then she felt the spikes in his side and stomach. She released him, and grabbed his left arm—spike-free.
"Come on, scout," she said semi-encouragingly. The deranged marauder was gaining on them. Only a few more strokes, and he'd be there. Nasica released the scout and turned to the marauder. She twirled her dagger in her hand.
But she turned too late. Suddenly he was right there in front of her. He swung with a short blade and caught her arm. Nasica ducked beneath the water for protection, wincing at the slight cut and sting from her arm.
The scout!
She pushed herself above the water, searching for the scout.
The marauder had him. He held Tristan against him with the knife against Tristan's throat.
"Romans! Dogs!" he spat. "Killers, all of you!" Nasica glanced nervously at Arthur and the knights. They were on the rocky ledges, too far away. She was the only one close enough, but she didn't think she could do anything fast enough to save Arthur's scout. They were at least waist deep in the seawater, and when the waves came, it almost covered them.
Tristan's mouth was open, and his eyes shut, as if he were trying to shut out the pain itself. His hands were free, but the spike in his right forearm hindered him. Nasica could see the redness around the wound, and not just blood.
"You took two women, and tortured my knight," Arthur shouted above the roar of the ocean. His lip curled up angrily, something Nasica didn't see often. "I don't know your reasons, but you will not kill him."
The marauder grinned evilly.
"He's responsible for the death of an entire village," he said, jostling the knight in his grasp. Tristan let out a hoarse yelp. His eyes opened again, but he didn't look at Arthur or the knights. He looked down the cave, towards the sea.
Towards the coming wave, Nasica realized, following his gaze. Just a few more seconds and it would cover them.
The marauder drew his arm back as if he would dramatically slit the scout's throat. Nasica heard the knights gasp and the king shout out a vain objection. That's when Tristan struck.
Nasica's eyes widened. The scout lifted his right arm. Even though it must have hurt just to lift it, he swung his arm towards the marauder. He screamed as he used the spike in his arm to stab the man, but Nasica didn't hear it. She did hear the marauder scream. But it morphed into a gurgled cry. Tristan's chest heaved as he kept his arm up, the spike embedded in the marauder's neck and still in his own arm.
The waves moved him, and the dying marauder slipped beneath the water. Tristan was forced with it, the spike pulling on his arm.
"No!" Arthur shouted. Nasica snapped out of the intensity of the situation and dove beneath the water. She caught Tristan about the waist with one arm and reached for the spike with the other. Before he could sink further, Nasica pulled the spike from his arm and the dead marauder's neck.
Something splashed near them, and Nasica came up above the water in time to see Arthur in the water. She kept her hold around Tristan's waist. His breathing was labored, and she felt his body tense and cringe. His stomach.
Arthur swam to them and reached out to help.
"Careful," she warned, pushing him towards Arthur. "He has the needles in his stomach and side." Her leg accidentally hit the scout's, and he gasped. "And his leg."
The scout's face was twisted in pain as the knights pulled him out of the water.
Arthur gasped when he saw the spikes and pulled himself up to the ledge. They gingerly laid the scout down on the rocky ledge. Bors just stared, unsure of what they were or what to do about them.
"Sea urchin," Arthur said. He knelt by the scout's head. "Tristan!" The scout winced and turned his head away from the king. His body was shaking; Nasica could see the goosebumps over his chest. Ink-like streaks of purple spread around puncture wounds and around the spikes.
"What did they do to him?" Gawain wondered aloud. "Do we take out the spikes?"
Arthur frowned. He glanced to Nasica. "Do you have any healing skills?"
Nasica, still dripping seawater, shook her head.
"Lennor," Arthur called. "Bring Jaelynn and Galahad with the horses, to the entrance of the cave." He looked down grimly at his knight. "We'll have to wait for the tide, but he cannot move like this on his own."
Nasica watched the knight retreat into the dark caves.
Gawain took off his cloak, and laid it over Tristan. Galahad was tearing some cloth, and passed a strip to Arthur. The king quickly bound the scout's forearm.
"Tristan," the king called, his voice gentler now. The scout tried to focus on him "We're going to remove the spikes."
A look of dread passed over the knight's face, but he gave one nod. Arthur drew a deep breath, and touched the spike in the knight's side.
"Wait," the scout whispered. Nasica wondered why he kept whispering. The king looked to him. "Hold me down." There was a brief moment of surprise over Arthur, but he nodded, and looked to the knights and Nasica.
"Hold him down," Arthur said. Gawain moved to the knight's left side, holding down his arm and head. Bors tried to hold the man's legs down as gently as he could. Nasica knelt by Arthur, and placed her hands over his hips.
Arthur pulled the spike out quickly. Immediately Nasica felt the knight buck his body against the pain, but she and the knights held him fast.
The one in the calf came out next. A horrid but quiet sound came roughly from the scout's throat, and it made Nasica sick. It was when the spike over his stomach came out that Tristan made some inhuman noise of agony. It did Nasica in.
"Arthur," she said a bit numbly. Suddenly she stood, and moved away, covering her mouth. She was going to be sick right there if she didn't get away.
-0-0-
Jaelynn's heart leapt when she saw the Briton. He crawled out of the cave.
"He's alive," he said first. Jaelynn was grateful for that. "Arthur wants us to take the horses to the cave entrance. They're waiting inside."
"Is he all right?" Galahad asked. Jaelynn had tried to tell him what happened but couldn't really find the words. Lennor hesitated.
"He's alive."
They moved quickly, with Jaelynn almost leading the way on foot. The men handled the horses, and that was fine with her. Her mind couldn't think of anyone but Tristan. She kept imagining horrid things being done to him. The marauders would have been angry when she escaped.
Her eyes welled up with tears. Jaelynn quickly wiped them away. The salty drops on her hand made her think of Tristan—of his tears.
A lump rose in her throat.
They came to the sea, but the water was high. She scowled at it. They would have to wait until the water drew back.
-0-0-
He could see Decia as he left her in the village. She was screaming after him, flinging insults, pleas, and tears. Tristan just smiled and rode away.
Suddenly, Roman soldiers rode through the village. Tristan stood off to the side, only a witness to the gruesome slaughter. The Romans' anger at seeing Decia as a slave made them do the most dishonorable acts.
The Romans rode away, with Decia holding her head high again. Tristan stood nearly frozen, watching the remnants of death and life. Guilt and hatred for himself ate away at his soul.
It wasn't long before the men of the village returned. Tristan recognized each of them. They scoured the village for living loved ones.
He saw the easterner, and the easterner saw him. Tristan reached for his sword, but found he had no weapons. But the easterner didn't draw his either.
"You killed them," he said.
"I'm sorry," Tristan said back. "For your village."
The easterner
didn't say anything. Unnerved, Tristan kept talking.
"I did not mean for them to come," Tristan said.
"You should have died." The easterner's face was solid. Tristan couldn't argue with him. And then suddenly the easterner's head was severed by some unseen foe. The body fell to the earth, and the head rolled around. Even so, the head faced Tristan and spoke.
"Tristan."
His eyes shot open. Immediately he felt pain accompany his wakefulness.
"Tristan," he heard. He moved his head slowly to see who called him. It was Arthur. The king wore a concerned look that was so familiar that Tristan wondered if Arthur ever smiled anymore.
"Drink some water," Arthur said. He held a leather pouch to Tristan's lips. The scout took it, but he cringed when the cool liquid hit his throat. "Are you hurting?"
Tristan didn't really want to answer that. Suddenly, he wondered when Arthur even came. Tristan glanced around. They were outside, somewhere in the forest. How long has it been?
He noticed the movement next—he was on a horse, riding with Arthur. In other circumstances, he might have been offended at that. But he was too weak to argue, and he knew he would have fallen by now if not for Arthur.
Even so, the horse's movement, each step, triggered pain from Tristan's wounds. He gasped as the horse leapt over a fallen log.
"Tristan?"
Were the spikes still in him? No, the pain wasn't that intense.
Where's Jaelynn?
He remembered a woman rescuing him. Was it her? No. She had gray eyes.
It hurt to think. It hurt to feel. He didn't want to feel. He drifted off before he heard Arthur call his name again.
-0-0-
"Does he always whisper?" Nasica asked, nodding at the scout. Arthur glanced from his horse down to the Briton woman. Her blonde hair was tangled from the seawater, but they all looked a little worse for wear. Especially Tristan.
Arthur looked at the knight. He was slouched, sitting in front of Arthur. Arthur held his arms like a wall around him.
"No," Arthur answered. "But he doesn't speak much."
Nasica studied the scout, but looked up as Galahad spurred his horse closer to them. Jaelynn sat behind him.
"He lost his voice," Jaelynn said. Arthur stared at her, then looked at the knight before him.
"Did he fall ill?" Arthur asked. He realized how stupid that sounded, but Jaelynn knew what he meant. She shook her head.
"No. Well yes, but that's not why his voice . . . " she stammered. "He . . . wore it out." A pang hit Arthur's heart. Looking to Jaelynn, Arthur saw her eyes were full and round, studying the knight sadly. Arthur understood that sadness. For him, it was guilt, yet again.
But for Jaelynn, he wondered if it was something more. He'd heard the other knights and even Vanora tease Tristan here and there about Jaelynn. Maybe they weren't joking idly.
"Arthur, how far are we?" Jaelynn asked. Arthur glanced at the skyline ahead. He noticed the hawk was back, circling ahead as if to hurry their pace home.
"If we ride through the night, we'll be back by dawn." The king looked to Nasica. "Do you agree?"
The Briton woman nodded. Arthur wondered why she was so eager to get home; she didn't come enthusiastically on this mission, though she performed well. He'd noticed her here and there over the last two years. Guinevere thought the world of her, but Arthur found the woman to be a bit cold. Not towards him, but to the knights. Maybe it was lingering bad blood, from years of hunting down Woads for Rome.
Tristan's head rolled slightly. Arthur wondered if the knight would wake.
Suddenly, the scout looked up, alert and panicked. Arthur tensed but before Tristan could lash out defensively, the panic left him.
"Tristan?" he said. The scout sat up straighter.
"Stop," he rasped. Arthur pulled up sharply on the reins, and barley caught Tristan as he clambered off the horse. The cloak they put around him fell off, leaving him exposed from the waist up. Tristan fell to his knees, his legs unable to support his malnourished body. Arthur dismounted hastily, and went to the scout's side. Tristan braced himself up with one arm, but suddenly his face contorted.
"Tristan, what's wrong?" Arthur asked. Jaelynn plopped down from Galahad's mount and echoed his question. Arthur noticed the hand she laid on his head, brushing his braided hair aside.
Tristan grasped his stomach with his other arm. Suddenly he heaved, falling on all fours. Arthur laid a consoling hand on the scout's bare back. Tristan's skin was clammy, and he was shivering.
He heaved again, but purged nothing. He gasped and squinted his eyes shut. He gingerly let himself fall to his side. Arthur quickly grabbed the cloak and put it over him.
"Tristan," Arthur prompted. The scout slowly opened his eyes. He swallowed over and over again before speaking.
Or whispering.
"Don't feel well," he said. Arthur could have shaken him in frustration if it wouldn't have hurt the scout.
"What do you need?"
Tristan just shook his head and lay on the ground. He pulled the cloak closer to him.
Arthur turned to Gawain and Bors.
"We'll camp over there," he said pointing, "by the trees. Build a fire. Galahad!"
The younger knight straightened up.
"You and Lennor find some food." He glanced back at the knight, trying to hide the obvious worry he felt. "He needs it."
-0-0-
The first thing that he noticed was dry heat coming towards him in waves. Opening his eyes, Tristan saw the fire dancing in front of him. He was as close to it as he could be safely.
Without moving, he glanced beyond the fire. Arthur, Gawain and Bors were sleeping. He saw Jaelynn's form too. Galahad and Lennor sat on opposite ends of the makeshift camp, both awake and keeping watch.
"Here," he heard someone say quietly from behind him. Tristan turned his head to see who it was.
A Woad. One he'd seen with Guinevere often. She had blonde hair, and gray eyes. In her hands was a waterskin. Tristan nodded once and reached with his left arm for the skin. He made himself sit up, drawing Galahad's attention, but he knew Galahad wouldn't come over. They were never that close.
He felt her watching him as he drank.
"Come on, scout."
He looked to her suddenly. It was her in the cave. She had freed him from drowning. He handed the waterskin back.
"You should eat," she said. She leaned near the fire where remnants of some animal stayed warm. Her hands pulled deftly at the meat, and she placed it on a little dish of sorts before handing it to him.
A shiver ran through Tristan as he had to relinquish some of the cloak to handle the food. His stomach was empty, no doubt, but he wasn't completely excited to eat. He still felt nauseous. He wasn't sure if it still was the poison from the sea creature.
Carefully, he used his right hand to eat. He studied the cloth binding his forearm. It didn't hurt as much anymore. It was sore, but the piercing and fiery pain from before was gone.
"Are you going to eat or stare at yourself?" the Woad asked, a hint of amusement in her tone. Tristan flickered a glance at her from behind his hair. In response, he picked up a piece of the meat and started chewing on it.
"How's the pain?" she asked next. Tristan swallowed gingerly, his throat still a bit sore.
"Better," he said simply in his whispered tones. She shot him a look. He shrugged. "Still sore, but not bad." He picked up another chunk of meat.
"You really don't talk a lot, do you?" she asked. Tristan half-smiled. His reputation was at work again.
"What's your name?" he asked. She looked surprised that she hadn't initiated that. The blonde Woad smiled.
"Nasica." Pretty, he thought. So was she, but he didn't want to dwell on that while his senses were so dull right now.
Tristan nodded. "I've seen you around the fort." She raised an eyebrow.
"I would hope so," she said. "I've been there since the battle with the Saxons. You're a scout; you should notice some things."
Tristan didn't feel like mentioning he wasn't around for that first year, but that wasn't really an excuse. And was she being playful with him, or condescending? He felt an unfamiliar lightness to his heart. He cleared his raspy throat.
His stomach felt full, though he knew he'd eaten little. He set the dish aside.
"Thanks," he whispered. He glanced down at his chest, pulling the cloak back to see the damage. He could see some seep-through of blood on the cloths over his stomach and side. His slight movement caused a shock, almost a jolt, of pain up his abdomen and chest. He bit down on his lip and leaned back.
Nasica watched him.
"Arthur wants the bandages to be changed soon," she said. "I have everything ready." She nodded at a clump of items to her side. Tristan glanced at them, then back at her.
"It can wait till the Wall." She raised an eyebrow at this.
"Arthur doesn't think so. I don't either," she said. She picked up some cloths and a little pouch.
"No," Tristan said, a little more urgently. She stopped, frowning. "It can wait." He didn't like the strange look she was giving him. Tristan shifted his body against a tree trunk, leaning back to relieve some of his soreness. He brought the cloak closer around him, and tried not to appear uneasy.
Based on Nasica's continued staring, he failed. But he didn't care too much. He had his reasons.
He wanted to delay cleaning out his wounds for now. The pain, even if he amplified its memory in his mind, wasn't something he wanted to aggravate again for awhile.
"Whatever you say, scout," the blonde woman said. She rolled her eyes and settled back down to rest. Tristan opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't think of anything prudent.
He watched her for a few moments. In the firelight, she looker warmer than her personality. Even so, he smiled faintly before gingerly laying himself down.
He didn't noticed Jaelynn watching across the camp.