#33 North

Kirra rose early, though she was still more tired than she should have been. An unshakeable fatigue had been plaguing her lately and all she really wanted to do was lay down and go back to sleep. She shrugged the desire off and dressed slowly choosing her clothing with care. It would be a long ride and she wanted clothing more appropriately suited to hard riding then any of her dresses. She chose her more traditional Iazyges dress for the journey.

It consisted of loose pants, over which was worn a long, long-sleeved, wrap around tunic tied closed at the side with high slits for easy movement, with a vest tied over that and a thicker coat as opposed to a cloak, though she stuck hers in her waterproof traveling bag just in case. She wore her most comfortable boots and covered her head with a scarf that she wound about her tightly braided hair.

Gawain woke as she was buckling on her knife belt and checking over the supplies in her bag, but she paid him little mind. She prayed that she had everything that she would need. She debated bringing her bow, but in the end opted to leave it. She was a healer, not a killer and she was severely out of practice.

No words were spoken as Gawain dressed and waited at the door for Kirra to join him. They stopped to grab a hasty meal in the deserted tavern. Kirra forced herself to eat; nervousness was twisting her stomach this morning and making it nearly impossible. They left soon after for the stables. There they found almost everyone already congregated and preparing in various ways.

The men pursed their lips in a disapproving way when they saw Kirra dressed and ready to accompany them, but thankfully said nothing. Galahad stalked in not long after, speaking to no one, and quickly saddled, Rain, his dappled mare.

Rain was fidgeting; sensing the tension in the air and Gal set to work calming the animal and was working out their combined frustration when Arthur entered. Still it remained silent, the mood oppressive, the hostility growing as the Bishop found them, followed by his servant.

Kirra hung out of sight in Jin's stall. She had had all the run-ins with the Bishop and his men that she ever wanted. So she hid and tried to ignore the man's simpering and the feeling of absolute loathing that came off the men in overwhelming waves. She didn't want to be found out and forced to stay behind all because of a inappropriate whim of a Bishop.

Kirra was surprised by the usually reserved Dagonet's sign of fury, when he bumped the Bishop's shoulder with his own, and Arthur's apathy towards his knight's disrespect of such a high church official. It would do well for the Bishop to know who he was dealing with. Should anything happen to anyone on this last mission … well, he should probably start praying to whatever god he actually served, that all of them die. It wouldn't be pretty otherwise and he might just be lucky to make it back to Rome alive and in one piece.

She was tightening Jin's girth strap when she looked over and saw Jols saddling an extra horse. "Who is Torr for?" she asked him with a frown.

"The Bishop has decided to send his henchman with us." Gawain answered for the squire. His jaw was hard and his shoulders tensed more then they had ever been on the start of a mission. He was not handling Kirra's presence well.

"At least I won't be the weakest in the group." She said with a grin, attempting to get her husband to relax and smile.

It didn't work and Gawain stared at her for a moment, "Aye, but we don't care if something happens to him. Each and every one of us would give our life for you."

Kirra sighed and touched his cheek, his jaw hard against her hand, "Please, "she said softly, searching his glittering eyes and running her thumb lightly over his rough skin. "Nothing will happen to me."

Gawain closed his eyes for a moment, praying she was again correct, then opened them and lifted her onto Jin's back. He had just settled himself on Drea when Arthur gave the order to move out.

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The ride was long and almost frantic even before they entered the woods and the Woads began herding them. The men guided their ever more panicking horses away from the traps and vines woven with thorns, hating the fact that they had no room to fight and had to run instead. Kirra tried to stay out of the way. Jin was quite a bit smaller than the larger mounts of the men and Kirra had little desire to be trampled.

It didn't matter; the men were quite aware of her presence and did as much as they could to keep her in the center of the group. Something Kirra would have found quite annoying had adrenaline not been speeding through her veins and her heart pounding with fear. She had a moment of pity for Horton when she caught sight of the horror that bulged his eyes and caused sweat to pour down his face in a torrent. She hoped that she didn't look that terrified, even if she felt it.

She was fairly startled out of the saddle at Gawain's bellow of challenge and could not repress a scowl in his direction as she righted herself. He gave a humorless grin of apology, but stayed near her, shadowing her movements in attempt to keep himself between her and the threatening gloom of the Woad infested forest. Kirra appreciated his tenacity, but knew that if the Woads wanted them dead, it would take a lot more than his body to stop her from being skewered on some horribly sharp point. Strangely, for all the fear, there was only one time, Kirra was sure they would all be killed.

Indeed, one man with a strange symbol tattooed on his forehead and hatred in his eyes stood, bow taut and narrowed on Arthur who sat astride his stallion unmoving and seemingly unafraid of death should the Woad deal it. A horn blew and hung for a moment on the highly charged air, then the man and all the other rebels melted away into the dark, leaving the knights confused and shaken.

"What happened?" Kirra breathed in the suddenly too quiet woods. "Why did they leave?"

"I don't know." Arthur said as he turned and led them from the dark forest, each expecting to be shot in the back. Nothing happened.

The night was shorter than it should have been and all too soon it was red morning and they were again mounted and racing towards their fate.

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The Roman's estate was a blessed sight as the small group galloped to its gate and was permitted entrance. Kirra was tired and cranky not to mention saddle sore and starving. She found herself glaring at the little Roman man as he argued pointlessly with Arthur and almost cheered when Arthur asked his wife to get them something to eat. As they waited for food, she looked around and noticed with a grin that she was not the only one with anticipation on her face. She was a bit bewildered, though, when the looks changed to exasperation when Arthur dismounted and stalked towards the small village that served the estate. It would seem the knights were frustrated with their leader.

But as Kirra tracked Arthur's path with her eyes, her blood froze at the sight of an old man slumped against chains that bound him in a standing position. The scared villagers gathered loosely around Arthur as he asked them who the man was and what his crime had been. She had the distinct feeling that the villagers thought that he was going to start hacking them to pieces with his sword at their response. It was a sad thing to watch as they recoiled in fear from the angry commander.

"Kirra," Arthur called as he cut the man down.

Kirra slipped from Jin and jogged over to the old man, ignoring Arthur for her task as he began to lecture the villagers. She helped a few others move the ancient to a dingy little hovel. She asked that the other women build up the small turf fire and bring her some hot water.

The old man had been whipped and, according to his daughter, had been chained, exposed to the elements for two days. He was barely alive, his breath shallow and his heartbeat uneven. Kirra gently touched his forehead. He was grey and unresponsive to her summons. She looked at his daughter compassionately.

"Is your mother still living?" She asked gently as she washed and bound the horrible wounds on the man's back and helped make him as comfortable as possible. It was hard knowing when you were merely helping one to die.

"No lady, Mam died a couple o' years back an' Da ain't been the same since. We was the only thin' keepin' him goin', I thinks." The woman replied softly as she held her father's hand.

Kirra nodded slowly, "I don't think that there is anything I can do for him." Kirra said sadly. "He is not responding to me and I can't feel his presence."

The woman blinked back her tears, "Tha's a' right, lady. He wouldn't want to leave me Mam."

Kirra nodded and embraced the woman, "I do not mean to sound harsh, but after this is over, you need to prepare to accompany us to the wall. Saxons are coming and it is not safe here for you."

The woman's tear filled eyes widened as fear crept in. She looked down at her dying father and Kirra felt relief wash through her -- the young woman was glad her father would not have to endure such a journey. She nodded her thanks to Kirra when Kirra left her alone to say her goodbyes.

As Kirra made her way back to the estate entrance, she was stopped by a worried young mother with an ailing babe in her arms. She examined the baby and strengthened it as much as she dared, all the while hoping Gawain would save her a bit of food. In order to conserve her strength, Kirra healed as normally as possible all who she was able as the men helped to load wagons.

Everything took much longer then was necessary and Kirra tried not to feel angry at the obstinacy of the Romans. Had it been her who had been told that murderous barbarians were coming to kill her and her family, Kirra would have left everything but a horse and been gone within the hour, but the Romans felt the need to take every silken robe and every marble bust. It was maddening and pointless.

She was just finishing giving the mother of a young boy with a sprained wrist instructions on keeping it braced during the journey, when she noticed that the men were starting to mount up. She promised the remaining people that she would see to them when they stopped for the night and hurried to find Jin, warming her cold, chapped hands in her coat as she ran.

It turned out Galahad had Jin. Gawain and a few others had decided to investigate a small brick building that had been haphazardly built onto one of the outer walls of the estate. She looked over at Galahad in question as she pulled herself into the saddle, but the knight just shook his head and turned back to watch the proceedings with a scowl. Tristan was near. He leaned over and handed her some bread and meat. Which she gratefully accepted

"What is going on?" She asked around a rather large mouthful. Not even the sound of the drums beating like the heart of some deranged giant or the ever increasing flow of adrenaline in her blood could appease her hunger. "Do we have time for this?"

Tristan shook his head mutely. His lips were thinned in displeasure and his dark eyes were uneasy.

It was Bors, having overheard her question, who answered her, "Naw. Arthur is out to save the world again -- to the price of us all."

Kirra swallowed her bite as Arthur suddenly rushed from the little hut, calling for water, a young woman, more a girl, in his arms. Dag followed closely with a boy in his own. Kirra nearly choked when Tristan pointed out the girl was Woad. She looked harder and could make out the faded blue marks on the girl's legs.

Kirra reluctantly handed her food back to Tristan and again slid from Jin's back when the girl began to cough and gag on the water Arthur was slowly giving her, but stopped when the pompous little Roman hurried to Arthur and started shouting at him. Kirra started when he suddenly turned on his wife, who had come to help, and viciously backhanded her knocking her to the ground and Arthur punched him.

She backed up to Jin and decided that she would do better to wait until later to see after the girl and the boy. Now was not the time. She pulled herself back into the saddle and watched in shock as Arthur threatened the little Roman and ordered the whining priests to be walled back up in the little building. Several of the estate's guards helped the Roman to his feet and he was all spite and rage, cursing Arthur and promising retribution.

The weather was worsening and the drums were growing louder and Kirra found herself wishing she was very, very far from this place. She shivered at the hatred she heard on the voices of the peasants who threw the priests bodily into the yawning black hole of the hut. Gawain was one who helped them and gladly tossed one of the dirty little clerics back in the dark and Kirra wondered what he had seen in the little building. From the looks of the girl and young boy, it had not been good.

Gawain's forced grin and quick reassuring caress of her knee when he passed on his way to Drea did little to ease the heartache Kirra felt. Though it had been sometime since she had come back, she still found it hard to accept the violence of this life and she longed for the safety of her adoptive parent's home. But she had not the time for tears and she swallowed them back, following behind Gawain as close as Jin would, wishing she were closer.

They traveled as fast as they were able, given the people with them, but it wasn't nearly fast enough and Kirra grew weary of the drums and the feeling of being hunted. She had gotten in the wagon carrying the boy and the Woad girl not long after they had left the estate.

The boy had been burning with fever, had a broken arm and a multitude of bruises to show for his time in, what Kirra learned from a sober Dagonet, had been a torture chamber. Kirra swiftly put an end to the need for the boy's fever and helped Dag to set his arm, taking care once again to use her powers sparingly. Arthur had come in sometime later and Kirra had just about jumped out of her skin when he had pushed the girl's fingers back into place and she screamed. She could not help the disapproving look she gave Arthur as he left. It could have been done in a more comfortable way.

But the biggest surprise of the day came when Kirra heard the girl's name. Guinevere. Dag looked at Kirra in concern when she gasped and jerked to look over at the girl. She quickly focused her attention back on the boy and studiously avoided meeting Dagonet's questioning eyes. The girl lost consciousness soon thereafter and so Kirra was saved from having to make small talk as she carefully examined the girl's hands and ran her skilled fingers lightly over her body to check for anything else that might be amiss. She would speak with the girl later, when she had had some time to come to grips with the new knowledge.

Kirra rode Jin near the wagon until nightfall, keeping her eyes and ears open, saying little. It was growing colder, so she pulled her cloak over her coat and hunched her shoulders as a light rain began to mingle with the snow that had been falling. It was dreary and she found the weather affecting her mood.

Gawain rode with her for awhile, long enough for her to tell him that the girl in the wagon was the woman from her stories.

"You mean the queen?" He asked, stunned.

Kirra nodded wearily and ran a hand over her eyes. She felt like crying, but swallowed it somehow and doubled her efforts to keep Gawain from seeing how exhausted and sick she felt.

"And Lancelot?" He questioned in low tones, watching the knight in question as he conversed with the girl.

"I guess that I will have to watch them." Kirra stated with a sort of detached shrug. Then a smile ghosted her face, "But I didn't tell you to worry you. None of the stories it would seem are true, so this may not be either."

Gawain nodded, though he looked unconvinced.

They settled for the night in a small, but thick grove of trees. Kirra was at once besieged by the serfs who she had not time to see to earlier and she did not return to the warmth of the cooking fires until it was well past dark and a cold fog was rolling in. She dished herself a bit of the stew that hung over the fire and sat with the bowl in her hands, staring dully into the night.

Her cloak was dropped over her shoulders and Gawain seated himself next to her. Finding she was too tired to eat, Kirra placed her bowl on the ground and leaned her head on his shoulder as he wrapped a comforting arm around her. Galahad joined them next, after throwing an armful of wood to the ground.

"Well, how do you like this?" He asked, nearly growling as he sat across from them.

Kirra shrugged, she was weary. The day was taking its toll and all she wanted to do was sleep and forget what she had seen. "They would have been killed had Arthur left them."

Galahad tossed a stick on the fire and scowled, "But they put us in danger."

"That can't be changed." Gawain said and Kirra nodded in agreement.

"What if they were your family members, Gal?" She asked her friend in gentle tones. She knew he wouldn't like the question.

He looked over from the fire and glared, "Mine wouldn't be here."

Kirra sighed. Galahad had every right to be angry. They all did, but anger wouldn't help them – she had learned that long ago. What was done was done. Now they just had to live through it. She was dozing when a noise was heard from the main camp. Galahad jumped to his feet followed by Gawain, who knocked her head in effort to get his arm back. She sighed, got to her feet, and trudged wearily after the men.

Seeing the little Roman holding the boy with a knife to his throat and Dag being used as a punching bag woke Kirra fully and she watched with wide, terrified eyes. It was obvious the knights were afraid to do anything in case they hit the boy and it seemed that the Roman would win this night's battle, until an arrow came whizzing out of the dark.

Kirra turned her head and saw to her astonishment that Guinevere was the one who had fired it. She turned back to the Roman, who lay dying on the ground and dazedly wondered if she should help him. The moment was lost as Bors, mounted on his dark stallion, came to an abrupt halt.

"Do we have a problem?"

The Roman's men immediately backed down. Kirra wanted to laugh, but the feeling was soon erased as Tristan had just returned from a scouting mission and reported that Saxons were very close and they had armor piercing weaponry. Pulling herself together, Kirra ran back to her fire and dipped a bit of the warm stew into a bowl, then hurried back to Tristan. Gawain and Galahad had gone to see to the body of the Roman.

Grim lines marked Tristan's forehead and his lips were set as he took the food Kirra held out to him. He sat on the log and Kirra sat beside him. He was chilled and she could feel the cold radiating from his body. She leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist as much to warm him as to derive some measure of comfort for herself.

"Where will we go, Tristan?" she asked quietly.

He swallowed before answering, "To the east, back across their lines. It's the only way I can see getting out of this." He added at the flare of fear he saw in his sister's eyes.

"Do you think we can make it?"

Tristan looked away in contemplation. He wanted to lie and tell Kirra that everything would be all right, that they would make it safely back to the wall. But the truth was he wasn't sure if they would. In fact, he highly doubted it.

Kirra read his silence, "Well, we'll just have to pray for a miracle."

Tristan glanced up and saw Kirra watching him closely, and nodded. She gave him a slight smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Tristan, before I go to bed?"

He shook his head, "The stew and your touch were enough. Try not to worry, Kirra."

Kirra got to her feet, brushed a bit of dirt off her clothing and bent to kiss the man on the forehead, "With you around, never. Good-night, brother," She said with a wan grin before finding her blanket and curling up for the night.