a/n: I hate to be shameless, but I have to admit, I love how the ending of last chapter brought out a few lurkers. :o) Thanks for coming out of the woodwork and sharing your comments with me! I struggled with this chapter quite a bit, hence the delay in posting. But thank you for your patience!
Doomed
It was the growling that woke him. Normally when Tristan woke up to growling, it was because Bors was nearby and hungry. This time, however, was a bit different. When he opened his eyes, he saw several pairs of glowing eyes.
His head hurt. Were all those eyes really there? He blinked a few times, but the eyes stayed. And that growling—it was damn annoying.
Wolves, you idiot.
He decided to take stock of his situation a little more seriously. Five wolves, that he could see, paced back and forth in front of him. He heard growls behind him too, and put the number of animals up to seven.
Tristan was standing, somehow. His feet were bound, firmly planted on the ground. His arms were sore, and when he glanced up, he saw why. His arms were raised above his head, bound at the wrists, and with the length of rope tossed above and secured on a high tree branch. The position pulled at his shoulders. He stood a little more straight and tall, easing the pressure off his shoulders.
The wolves snarled at his slight movement. One of them moved behind him, out of his sight. Tristan tried to turn and see. The wolf saw this and lunged.
Tristan hopped on his bound feet, moving just a breadth away from the wolf's jaws. The other wolves bristled and growled louder, while the first rethought things. The wolves were testing him right now. Tristan had seen it enough to know they would try a few tactics, until they felt they understood him. Then they all would attack at once.
Another wolf inched closer to him, his head low but his eyes staring at the prospect of a meal. Tristan flexed his hands. He held onto the rope to relieve his wrists and jumped up, lashing out as the wolf lunged. His feet connected with the wolf's nose.
It yelped and retreated for the next wolf to try.
Tristan glanced up again. The branch above him was high—too high to jump to.
The wolves suddenly quieted. Tristan eyed them. They all stared back, their mouths closed and their eyes alight. And then one of them barked, and they lunged at him.
Tristan jumped as much as he could and pulled on the rope. The movement of his hands was slight, but he could at least grasp the rope. He kicked out with his feet together.
His flesh ripped by his knee when one wolf snagged him. Tristan didn't have time to think of it. He kicked out again, and leapt as high as he could. His palms held tight to the rope and then he swung his legs out and flipped his body.
Immediately he felt the strain on his shoulders—on all his muscles, actually. But with his legs in the air and his body inverted, he was a good six feet off the ground. Unfortunately, the wolves were good jumpers. One leapt at him, its jaws snapping within inches of Tristan's face.
Tristan twisted his leg around the rope, and bent his knee so that he soon was right-side up again. He wasn't the safest distance from the wolves, but he had enough room now to climb a little more carefully. Keeping the rope wrapped around his leg, Tristan inched his way up the rope.
The wolves still snarled below him. It was the sound of disappointment, anger at a prey that escaped. Tristan hauled himself over the branch. He let himself catch his breath as he eyed the wolves below.
He smirked at them.
The wolves started looking for other meals while Tristan used his teeth to gnaw at the knots in the rope.
-0-0-
They didn't believe he was a knight. They had good reason to be distrusting. Having been held captive by the marauders herself, Jaelynn couldn't completely fault them for being cautious.
The village elder was near tears as he elaborated. Tristan escaped sometime during the night. The old man's own grandson was the one to discover this. The grandson stood dutifully by the old man's side now, almost acting as a support. His eyes were lowered respectfully, and also occasionally they glanced to Jaelynn.
She kept glancing to him for confirmation as the village elder relayed what happened.
"Morlo went after him," the elder said. "He found him in the woods. A pack of wolves came upon the knight."
Jaelynn's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She tried to swallow, but her throat just rubbed dryly.
"Where is he?" she whispered. Beside her, Galahad was quiet.
The village elder drew a shaky breath. Morlo laid a hand on his grandfather's shoulder.
"His body was not in a condition for me to bring back," the grandson said.
Her stomach clenched and twisted within her. Galahad started pacing. She briefly wondered what he was thinking, and if he felt the awful pain she did, even with the coldness between him and Tristan. She felt ill.
"We are sorry," the village elder said, his voice still frail and on the edge of sorrow-laced hysteria. "We are loyal to the king, and never would . . ."
Whispers and gasps rose up among the people. Jaelynn looked over her shoulder, trying to see what made the village elder trail off.
At the edge of the village, walking confidently despite a slight limp, was Tristan.
-0-0-
He debated the whole walk back about whether or not he'd kill anyone over this. Tristan was close enough to anger that he seriously considered it. His physical state didn't help him. He was cold, covered in dried mud still, bleeding from his knee, sore in his shoulders and head, and probably fighting a cold as well.
Morlo. He would settle on killing him. Unless his grandfather wants to do it for me. No. The grandfather probably wouldn't know what happened, and Tristan wouldn't explain it; there was no point. He just needed his sword back, his old sword that Morlo kept using as an extra insult, and then he'd take care of the entire problem.
Of course, all his brooding and planning changed when he walked into the village. The first thing he saw was the caravan. Great. They can vouch for me before I slice the boy's head off.
Then he saw Jaelynn. Her face was pale, and he could see distress in her eyes. Galahad was next to her, his jaw dropped.
"Tristan!" he called out. He and Jaelynn ran towards him. Tristan found his eyes following Jaelynn as she came to him. Her eyes were moist, but the distress disappeared from her face.
"You're alive!" she said with a gasp, and then she hugged him tightly. Tristan saw Galahad raise an eyebrow at that. He didn't let it bother him, though he was unsure of what to do as Jaelynn hugged him. He was also well aware of Morlo watching them.
"Eh," he said, and Jaelynn released him. "I'm fine."
She looked over him, immediately spotting his knee. Her eyes moved back up his body. Tristan held still, allowing it. Her eyes found his next little wound, a scabbed-over cut on his throat from two nights ago, and the slight cut on his arm. Both were healing by themselves.
"Tristan, what happened?" Galahad asked.
The villagers came near, especially the elder. A man helped him forward. Tristan scanned the crowd and found Morlo staying away. The lad stared at him, his eyes alert and dark with disappointment.
Tristan smirked.
"You live!" the village elder exclaimed. "Please forgive us. We didn't—"
The man went on, but Tristan kept his eyes on Morlo. The lad started to shift where he stood. The grandfather was rambling now, and Tristan tuned in enough to hasten the situation.
"—anything, anything, we can do—"
Tristan cut him off.
"Bath," he said shortly. He looked pointedly at the old man, hardly bothering to hide his cold expression. "Return my things to me immediately."
Galahad raised an eyebrow again, but Tristan didn't care if he seemed out of line.
"Of course," someone said, and two women ran off to ready a bath.
"Tristan," Jaelynn said, grasping him by the elbow. "I should look after your leg."
He turned to her, and saw the forced composure she had now. Had she really thought he was dead? He'd come close enough on several occasions, so maybe it wasn't too hard to believe. But now she stood confidently, with her air of authority. He smiled slightly, and nodded.
"After," he said, indicating his bath. Suddenly Galahad started to laugh. The scout and the healer's assistant frowned at him.
"I don't think I've ever heard you ask for a bath," Galahad said. Tristan just grunted and walked away.
-0-0-
Jaelynn leaned back against the wall of the hut. The fire burning in the hearth warmed her.
The village elder offered Tristan to stay in his house. Perhaps it was an honor, or just a way to make up for whatever happened to Tristan. Jaelynn waited for him to finish dressing.
"You said he was dead," Galahad said, glaring at the village elder and the grandson. The elder frowned. Clearly, he hadn't thought about that. He looked to the one they called Morlo.
Morlo offered a feeble shrug. He stammered a bit as he spoke.
"Maybe it was an unfortunate traveler," he said.
But if Tristan escaped, why would he come back? Jaelynn didn't buy it.
"Was the unfortunate traveler's body in no condition to be brought back too?" she asked. Morlo's eyes bore into hers, defiant. Suddenly, his gaze softened on her.
Jaelynn quickly looked away.
"Vicious wolves," came a voice she knew so well. She turned and saw Tristan standing at the doorway. His hair was wet and completely unbraided. She'd never seen him that way. The spare change of clothes he had fit him nicely, a definite improvement from the muddied ones he had on earlier.
She saw the scout look pointedly at Morlo. Morlo's gaze cooled significantly, and he left the hut.
"Sit down, Tristan," she said, going into healer mode. He obeyed, and she started to tug on his pant leg. The village elder ambled across the small room.
"The girl can stay with Opthalus," he said. Jaelynn hated how she seemed to not have a name. "You and the other knight may stay here."
She saw him tense. Tristan shook his head, making his hair sway back and forth in front of his face.
"No," he said. "We'll stay together." The village elder looked taken aback.
"But there is not enough room here—"
"Then we'll stay elsewhere," Tristan said quickly. The look in his eyes left no room for argument. The old man slowly nodded.
"As you wish." He ambled out of his home, leaving the knights and Jaelynn.
She raised an eyebrow at the scout. "Care to explain?"
Galahad stepped forward, as if to hear better what Tristan would say. But the scout shook his head.
"Yesterday I was their prisoner," he said, his manner dull and indifferent.
"How did they catch you?" Galahad asked. "You're an easy target now?" Jaelynn bowed her head to keep her smile hidden.
"Next time I'll just kill them then," Tristan said with a smirk. She shook her head.
Jaelynn grasped his calf, turning it slightly. Tristan winced but stayed still. She frowned thoughtfully as she examined the wound. She touched around the ragged edges of it.
It looked like a wolf clawed him. That was fortunate; bites were worse, from what she read. There were more risks. Jaelynn picked up a small bowl with an herb paste in it. It was bluish-green, and Tristan's lip curled up at the smell. She swirled her fingers in the paste, mixing it freshly, and then gathered a glob on her fingertips. When the paste made contact with his skin, Tristan's leg jerked. Quickly, he stilled it, but Jaelynn noticed. She glanced up at him, peering up to see beyond his bangs.
"Sorry," he muttered. She applied more of the paste, and this time, Tristan held still. She grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around the knee. Her fingertips gently moved over his skin. She saw the muscles in his leg tense. Glancing up at him, she saw him bite his lip, hard.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, frowning. She was being as gentle as possible. Tristan moved his jaw, unclenching his teeth over his lip. He shook his head.
"Are you sure?" she asked. She knew the paste stung at first, but it should have been all right by now.
He was about to nod automatically when her fingers grazed the back of his knee. He jolted.
It hit Jaelynn—was her touch causing him to act so strangely? A blush was starting to work its way on her, so Jaelynn looked back at the knee and finished bandaging it. What if that was it? Was it a good thing that he reacted to her that way, or was it more evidence of the awkward, platonic regard he held for her?
When she finished the bandage, she sat back. Tristan was braiding parts of his hair.
"I've never seen your hair without the braids," Jaelynn said. She stood and reached for one section that was a little messy. Carefully, she undid one part and then rebraided it. Her eyes met Tristan's. The golden brown color of his narrow eyes made her heart beat faster. He was staring right back into her eyes, and she felt a tingle shiver up her back.
"I should go see their healer," Jaelynn said suddenly, moving away. Tristan quickly nodded.
She turned and headed for the door. Galahad had been standing and just watching them—she'd forgotten he was even there. He had a goofy expression on his face. Jaelynn shut her eyes briefly.
Please don't say anything, she thought, willing it on Galahad. The open air outside the hut welcomed her from her escape.
-0-0-
Galahad tore a piece of meat off the chicken leg. It was a little dry, but he savored the smoky flavor. The wine was hardly anything strong, more like watered down grape juice, but he drank it anyway.
The nightly feast, if you could call it that, was actually not necessary or expected under normal circumstances. The caravan was here to deliver goods. Sure, he was here too, but that didn't warrant any special treatment. The whole reason this feast was occurring was because of Tristan.
Galahad grinned into his cup. The villagers couldn't have thrown a feast for a less appreciative person. But this was their way of begging forgiveness or showing their hospitality—a bit after the fact, since they kept him prisoner for a few days, but oh well.
He would have given his right leg to see that—Tristan as a prisoner, held by simple villagers? He chuckled.
The scout hardly ate anything. Galahad watched him. Tristan picked at his food with no interest. His eyes were on Jaelynn. Galahad followed his line of sight.
Correction: Tristan's eyes were on Jaelynn and Morlo, the village elder's grandson. Galahad raised an eyebrow at his observation. Interesting.
Morlo was talking to Jaelynn quite a bit, though she was simply trying to eat. She smiled awkwardly at something the young lad said, and shifted slightly away from him. Morlo smiled as well, and said something else that made them both laugh.
Galahad looked back to Tristan. The scout was fingering the knife he kept in the chest of his armor. Galahad chuckled, and went to sit by him.
"If you kill him, don't expect me to keep you from the pit they put you in," he said. Tristan shot him a quick glare. Inside, Galahad was delighted. It wasn't often he could tease the scout about anything. Is he that protective of Jaelynn?
Or more?
He grinned.
"She can take care of herself, Tristan," he said. Tristan glanced sideways at him, his eyes showing disbelief at his words.
"It's not her I'm worried about."
Galahad glanced at Morlo. The lad was still chattering at Jaelynn, and laid a hand on her shoulder. If Tristan had no restraint at all, the lad would be dead. Galahad decided to distract him, if for no other reason than to avoid bloodshed.
"Speaking of worry," he started, "you left the Wall pretty rashly. Arthur was concerned."
Tristan sighed quietly, and picked up a cup of wine. "He always worries."
"With good reason," Galahad said. He found it amusing how Arthur mothered Tristan, and how Tristan hated it. Sure, maybe the scout found it insulting. But could you really fault Arthur for his concern?
Tristan rolled his eyes. It made Galahad grin, but he tried to hide it.
"I have my share of trouble like everyone else," he said. Galahad snorted. That was hardly the case. He shook his head.
"It's not just your trouble that worries Arthur," Galahad said. Tristan turned inquisitively to face him. "Has he never told you?"
The look from Tristan told him no.
"Really? Not even in those long talks he has with you?" Galahad goaded. Tristan glared at him. He grabbed his small knife and stabbed a piece of meat off Galahad's plate. The younger knight grinned.
"You remember the battle with the Saxons when we got our papers?" he asked. Tristan cocked his head to the side, shooting him a bored look. Right. Of course he remembers. "During it, Gawain was hit by a cross bolt. He was trying to pull it out, and wasn't watching his back. A Saxon came right up behind him, but before he could kill Gawain, Arthur got to him."
He frowned as he thought about it. He hadn't actually seen that—obviously, he was busy fighting too. But Arthur had told him once.
"I don't even think Gawain knows," he added. Not that it was a huge deal. Over the years, all the knights had helped each other out in battle. It was what made them close. He shrugged, moving on with his story. "Arthur said he blamed himself for what Germanius did. If he had been looking out for you too, maybe he could have stopped him."
Tristan fingered the meat without eating it. Galahad wondered what he was thinking, a more difficult game that he indulged in every now and then. Did he wish Arthur had stopped Germanius in time too? Did he realize Arthur's guilt was unfounded? Or was he still thinking about Morlo and Jaelynn?
"You get killed if you split your focus," Tristan said. Ah, Galahad thought. He doesn't fault Arthur. Typical Tristan, now that he thought about it. Tristan was fiercely independent, and to fault Arthur for something that might have well cost the king his life was a bit uncharacteristic for the scout. It made Galahad respect Tristan a bit more than he already did.
"So," Galahad said, continuing. "Are you coming back to the Wall with us?"
Tristan stilled. His eyes were cast downward, but he didn't move a muscle while he thought.
Galahad wondered if he'd have to repeat the question, and then Tristan nodded. No verbal agreement, just a nod.
"Good," Galahad said. He noticed Tristan looked like he was caught offguard by that, but maybe it was the optimism in his voice. That's fine. Maybe it was time to just forget all the awkwardness between him and the scout, and move forward. He doubted he'd ever truly address what bothered him, or what bothered Tristan. And that was fine. Over the past few years, they'd made little steps of progress.
Tristan's eyes drifted over to Jaelynn. Morlo still engaged her actively in conversation, and he found plenty of opportunities to touch her, just on the arm or the shoulder, but it was contact nonetheless.
Tristan stood. Galahad tensed, wondering if he'd have to stop the knight from doing something rash. But the scout walked away, over to the hut where his things were. Moments later, he returned, a cloth in one hand and his sword in the other. Galahad eyed the sword.
"That's your old one," he commented as Tristan sat down again. The scout nodded.
"Found it in the woods." He bunched the cloth in his hand and gently rubbed it against the dirty blade. Leave it to the scout to clean his weapons at dinner. Galahad shook his head.
Tristan kept cleaning the blade, but his eyes flickered more than once at Jaelynn and Morlo. Slowly, Galahad grinned. He understood what the scout was doing. The menacing looks he kept shooting across the table were aimed at Morlo.
It's a warning, Galahad thought. Tristan flipped the blade over, making the blade reflect the firelight. Morlo noticed, but quickly looked away.
Galahad laughed out loud.
-0-0-
She had much to do before they left for home. Opthalus, the village healer, was more than a bit inept, but Jaelynn persisted in teaching him about the herbs and how to prepare them. She had to finish today, because they would leave in the morning.
Jaelynn pointed to a small plant by the base of a tree.
"See?" she said. "That is what it looks like before you prepare it." She kneeled down and plucked the plant up. "Now, you will prepare this one."
Opthalus, though easily two or three times her age, looked unsure. But he took the herb, and the two healers went back to work.
It was after noon when she decided she needed a break for her sanity. She walked through the small village, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Are you done?" came a mumbled accent behind her. She smiled, then turned to face Tristan. He was sitting on a fence, cleaning his armor. She noticed it was pretty muddy, but all the more reason for him to clean it.
"Sadly, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's amazing that someone so much older and who looks so capable can be so helpless." Tristan smiled.
"You'll be ready for tomorrow?" he asked. Tomorrow? Oh, to leave.
"Yes. This has been an . . . exciting trip, but I think I'm ready to go home." She grinned for good measure.
All right. That's enough. Walk away.
She hated the thoughts in her head sometimes. Don't hang on to him. Walk away now.
Begrudgingly, she obeyed, and turned to walk away from him. She almost gasped when she heard him jump down from the fence and walk by her. Was he coming to her?
She calmed herself and continued through the village. Tristan walked beside her, his armor in hand.
"How's your training?" he asked. Jaelynn blinked.
"With herbs or weapons?" Her question made Tristan smile behind the long bangs. She wondered why he hid behind them so much. Probably so no one can tell where he's looking or what he's thinking.
"Weapons," he answered. Jaelynn shrugged.
"I'm improving," she answered less directly. It was the truth, but part of her wondered if she'd ever be good enough to really defend herself when the moment demanded it. Practice and training were very different from the real thing. Even she knew that.
He grunted some form of agreement.
"What do you like?" he asked. Again, she wasn't sure what he meant, and had to guess back.
"Sword," she said. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "But it's either that or the dagger. I haven't started archery yet."
He nodded. And then he didn't say anymore. Their footsteps on the damp ground were all she heard, although the sounds of life within the village comforted her.
Say something!
"I'm surprised you didn't object," she said. When Tristan frowned, confused, she added: "To me being trained."
He nodded and then shrugged. One of his braids fell in front of his face, and he snapped his head to the side to rid it from his view.
"It's your decision," he said. "I'm not your father."
"No, you're not," she said, and instantly realized how rushed that came out. The blush was coming back. Tristan glanced at her. Jaelynn just ordered herself to be calm and show nothing.
The scout cleared his throat. She glanced at him and saw that he was looking across the village. Morlo stood there, watching Tristan and Jaelynn. His jaw was set—it looked like he was clenching it—and then he walked towards them.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan ball his fists.
"What?" she asked. Tristan glared at Morlo without explaining. Morlo reached them, and she noticed his dark hair. It was nicely combed, and fell softly around his head. It was shorter than Tristan's hair.
Morlo's demeanor was icy when he looked at Tristan, but as soon as his eyes came to Jaelynn, he appeared kind but intense.
"Lady Jaelynn," he greeted, nodding to her. "May I speak with you?" Lady!
"She's busy," Tristan answered for her. Jaelynn frowned. His voice was low and menacing; why would he answer for her like this?
"Tristan," she said, drawing his attention. Morlo bristled.
"I'm asking her, not you, murderer," he said. Jaelynn didn't like that one bit.
"Don't," she warned, stepping in front of Tristan protectively. It felt a bit odd to her, but yet she wouldn't ignore the mean words Morlo spat out. Morlo glared at the scout. He stepped back.
"Please," he said, "I just wish to speak with you."
Jaelynn sighed.
"What?"
"May we walk?" Morlo gestured where no one was.
Jaelynn looked from him to Tristan. She could tell how the scout felt about this. But she also wanted to see what Morlo wanted. He'd seemed friendly at dinner the night before, but there was some sadness within him. She felt obligated to at least hear him out.
She nodded.
As Morlo led her away from Tristan, she kept looking over her shoulder. Tristan appeared . . . blank. His stance was straight and tall, his chin tilted up slightly. He looked calm, confident. But the blank look . . . was that how he masked what he really felt?
And what is he feeling?
"Jaelynn," Morlo said, drawing her attention away from the scout. He frowned when he saw she'd been watching the knight. "Why do you defend him? He is dangerous."
Jaelynn raised an eyebrow, and an amused grin pulled at the corners of her mouth.
"Dangerous?" She saw the dead-serious look Morlo had on his face, and dropped her grin. "He is a knight. He has to be."
Morlo started to pace in short strides in front of her.
"He is not a good man," he said. "I know this."
A dark feeling crept into Jaelynn. "You've known him for a few days, and you think you can judge him?"
"He is a murderer."
Instantly, Jaelynn slapped him. She couldn't believe she'd done it, but the reaction was automatic to the young man's words. Morlo stumbled, his face shocked and turning red, but he swallowed and stood still before her.
"You may not like my words," Morlo said, "but I've seen it myself." Jaelynn wanted to run away, but the conviction of his words made her stay. "I saw him. He slaughtered my father. Just killed him, enjoying it."
Jaelynn swallowed. "When was this?"
Morlo bowed his head reverently at the thought. "Ten years ago."
And it suddenly made sense. Jaelynn tried to remain respectful for Morlo, but inside she wanted to laugh. He still blamed Tristan for being a knight? For doing his duty, under the servitude of Rome? That was what he had done, and while she regretted the loss of life, all the knights had to fight or be killed. Jaelynn glanced at Tristan. He was still watching from where she'd spoken with him before.
"I am sorry for your loss," she said evenly. "I'm sure it caused you great pain. But Tristan's actions were for a cause he was forced to serve. If he truly was a murderer, he would have killed all of you when you met him."
Morlo's eyes narrowed.
"He could not have," he said. "We outnumbered him."
Jaelynn couldn't suppress a smile. "You truly do not know him. He could have killed you all. Numbers mean nothing with his skill." To her own ears, her words sounded oddly proud, but she knew what she was talking about. "I've seen him defeat unbeatable odds. Several times."
Morlo clearly didn't like her words, but Jaelynn stood steadfast. The young man's eyes softened though, and he stared down at the ground humbly.
"I just worry for you," he said quietly. "You are too precious a lady to be risked around such a monster." She felt the jab to Tristan in his words, but the sweet compliment he paid her easily caught her attention. She blinked, trying to make sense of Morlo.
And then, he gently came towards her, his left hand cupping her face. He leaned in, and kissed her.
A dizzying void took over her mind until Morlo pulled back. His eyes begged for some acceptance of the affection he'd shown. Even so, Jaelynn glanced at Tristan.
The scout was gone.