Weakness In Me

Chapter Two: The Significance Of Friendship

By

Silksteel

'This really isn't necessary,' Neal complained, and Kel fought the urge to clout him with her riding glove. How was it, she wondered, that she had forgotten how frustrating her friend could be? He had the enviable ability of terrier-like persistence, not only reserved for those things that really mattered, but in every situation, treating it as if it were some debate at the university he was duty bound to win.

'Yes, it is,' she answered shortly, and hoped that, as her best friend, Neal would be able to tell when she was reaching the end of her tether.

'But this is emasculating,' he whinged, and Peachblossom beneath him snorted, tossing his head and rolling the bit between his teeth. Kel gave the gelding a comradely pat. She knew exactly how he felt.

'Neal. You're injured, I'm not. You're tired, I'm not. And Peachblossom won't hold both of us.' Kel never really got angry, not without the utmost reason, and her friend was simply reacting in a way she knew she would have done herself, had their positions been reversed. Although, of course, her own dissatisfaction would have been silent.

With that, Neal seemed to finally shut up - a miracle in itself - and Kel was left to her own quiet contemplation, the only sound in the Scanran forest that of steps in the snow. Her breath billowed out in regular clouds through the freezing air as she forged ahead, leading Peachblossom by a short rein, her own footsteps providing a map of safety for the gelding and his talkative cargo. Convincing her temperamental horse to allow Neal up there to begin with had been a negotiation of Herculean proportions; the least he could do would be to seem the slightest bit grateful. Knowing Neal, of course, the relief that he didn't have to walk was probably the very thing inspiring his complaints.

'Kel -'

She should have known the quiet was too good to last. Well, it wasn't as if they were actively being hunted - so long as Neal kept his voice low, they weren't risking discovery. 'Mmm?'

'How...how did Yuki take the news?'

The question seemed difficult. Kel looked up at her friend, noting the feverishly hopeful brightness of his eyes. 'As a Yamani,' she informed him neutrally, leaving time for his face to fall, Neal unable to fit the reactions of his beloved and her countrypeople into his perpetual need for drama. He looked so dejected Kel knew she had to elaborate, otherwise she'd be cursed by his sulking for the remaining daylight hours. 'Only her duty to Shinko prevented her from joining me.' A slight smile appeared at that, shared in much larger dimensions by Neal who was beaming.

'I knew it,' he said, the self-satisfaction evident in his voice. 'I'm completely irresistible to the female species.' At that, Kel looked up at the drizzle-grey sky, her eyes watering slightly from the fall of snowflakes, and prayed to the gods that they might take pity on her and give her lively companion an appropriate distraction.

The arrow did just that. It grazed Neal's lobe, prompting a choking squawk of indignation, and Kel -- promising not to make idle prayers in future, and simply to whack the older man herself -- fisted her hands in his tunic, dragging him from the saddle in one smooth movement. The next arrow whistled past at about the right height to have pierced his kidney had he still been mounted.

'Find shelter,' she ordered, handing Peachblossom's reins to her friend and unstringing her bow. Neal moved away, out of her sight line as she tucked herself between two trees, looking for a target in the swirl of white and brown. Kel refused to take a shot before she had one to take, reluctant to give away more than necessary about her position. If they were lucky, their assailants would bypass them completely.

'Gods cursed weather,' she heard a voice grumble, somewhere nearby, followed by an admonishment from the man's companion. Scanrans, but not bandits. Educated; equipped. Most likely in pairs fanning around them as she waited there in the lee of shelter.

Eventually, the two men came into view; one a bowman and the other unarmed but for the sword that hung at his hip. Kel, moving as slowly as possible so as not to attract attention, palmed two arrows. One, she gripped between her teeth for easy access. The other, she fitted into the bow, waiting until the men were within range to loose it.

The archer fell in the wake of rushing air, all that signalled her attack. Before she or the second man could launch a counter, the forest erupted in a roar of sound. Kel could hear a series of meaty thuds, and yells as those who'd obviously attempted to take her warhorse by surprise received the greatest shock of all. Neal shouted something incomprehensible above the din, though if pressed, Kel might venture a guess that he'd just attempted to use her glaive, and discovered the weight of it from horseback. The subsequent cursing was likely a side effect of having spent so much time among the Scanrans themselves. Living in the frozen tundra certainly provided enough opportunities for inventive linguistics.

Within moments, the remaining soldier's calculations came to fruition, and he located Kel's hiding place, his sword coming down hard into the tree trunk her head had rested against a moment before. Perhaps it would have been appropriate to mark the instance of his death with something poetic, but that was Meathead's arena more than her own, and Kel merely ran the man through whilst he fought to free his sword. It was only a matter of rejoining the battle after that, scrambling to her feet and heading for Neal's position. He was crouched on Peachblossom's back hanging onto her glaive and the reins for dear life as the gelding spun furiously in the clearing, kicking out anything that came within striking distance.

Neal didn't even notice her himself, which was just as well for keeping her presence a secret, and she had taken down two of the mercenaries before anyone even registered her.

'Take her alive,' she heard a man roar in Scanran as she faced off against another swinging a mace. Tripping back out of his reach, Kel balanced unsteadily on her feet and waited for an opening to present itself – which it did, as Neal wrenched the glaive in wide arc, steel blue blade slicing into the man's wrist and making him drop the weapon. Granted, Kel had to duck to avoid being injured herself, but that put her at an advantageous point, able to thrust her sword upwards into the Scanran's throat.

'Kel, behind you –'

Legs feeling heavy and wooden from fatigue – fighting in the snow was a distinctly perilous business – Kel narrowly avoided the flat of a sword aimed at her head, and tackled the new opponent to the ground from knee-height. Powdery white snow flew in all directions as they tussled, each trying to gain the upper hand, their swords – useless in such close quarters – discarded. Kel grunted in pain as the man landed a punch to her jaw that vibrated her entire face, and retaliated by elbowing him hard in the groin.

It gave her the necessary leverage to throw him off, grabbing a knife from her boot as she knelt on his chest, making short work of him.

'A little help would be appreciated.'

Even in the midst of battle, Neal managed to sound haughty, besieged as he was by three Scanrans who clearly didn't have the same qualms about taking him alive. Kel, breathing hard, retrieved her sword and waded into the fray, hoping her friend and one-time mentor would be able to keep control of the glaive throughout, now that she was properly within range.

Neal and Peachblossom accounted for two of the remaining mercenaries, whilst Kel picked up bruises and a long cut that ran from her collarbone to her ribs. Eventually it was simply a case of misdirection that won her the brawl, no honour enough to call it a fair fight. The silence that fell as the last man died was eerie.

Neal slid down from the horse and she felt his hands on her waist. 'Kel?' She smiled vaguely.

'My turn on Peachblossom,' she mumbled, and heard him laugh nervously as he pulled her arm around his shoulders, supporting her suddenly jelly-like body.

'Since you saved my life, I'm sure we can come to an arrangement,' he quipped, lifting and shoving her into the saddle as best he could manage. 'We better get going in case this lot have friends around here.'

When she awoke, it was to see Neal shirtless once more, attempting to dry his tunic over the fire he'd obviously built whilst she was out. 'Ungh,' Kel managed, and quickly shut her eyes again, wondering what the etiquette was for such things. A shame this hadn't all taken place a few years ago during her infatuation, she thought. Instead they'd had to contend with Wyldon's open-door rule and a host of ever-curious pages. What she'd have given to spend time with him alone in the wilderness.

'How are you feeling?'

Neal was crouched over her in moments, apparently oblivious to his state, and more concerned by her own. Kel kept her eyes closed as she took a quick inventory of her various ills. 'Not bad,' she answered eventually, aware he'd done a healing, but too grateful for it to chastise him. 'Where are we?'

She felt him move, and there was a rustle of parchment as he produced a map. 'Here –' he said, and then having obviously noticed the fact that she was still blissfully out, laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Kel.' Her eyelids flickered at the contact. 'Kel, you have to open your eyes.'

Kel did so, and found her friend almost nose to nose with her. 'Er –' She tried to sit up, and Neal backed off, but not before giving her a distinctly odd look. Ignoring it, and the rising blush in her cheeks, Kel stared very hard at the map, and the finger he pointed at their current position. 'We should avoid the river,' she said slowly, wincing as he newly acquired injury stretched and pulled at her movement. Neal had bandaged it whilst she was out, she noticed. 'Anyone tracking us will assume we'll head there and follow it to Corus.'

He nodded. Kel wondered if he'd actually taken in anything of what she'd just said. He still had a strange expression on his face. 'Neal?'

'Sounds fine,' he said abruptly, offering her a wan smile before he rose, packing away the map. 'Supper should be about ready. Hope you don't mind boar again; your scuffle scared away most of the wildlife in the forest.' He was off bustling about the fire before Kel could even reply. As she crawled out from beneath the furs, Kel tried to remember a time when they'd been as awkward as they were now. Throughout supper and having her wounds checked over once more, she couldn't think of a single other occasion. She had an ominous feeling that was somehow significant.

Author's Note: Shock, horror, an update! It's only taken me...three years. Wow, I'm pretty lame, huh? Anyway, if my darling loyal fans are still aboard ship, I hope you enjoyed this (admittedly, odd and rambling) chapter. And for those of you I don't know, drop me a line and say hi!