Mariella awoke in the dead of night.
Or so it seemed.
Her surroundings were dark but slowly her eyes adjusted and familiar shapes began to materialize around her.
She was at her sleeping quarters in the infirmary. Being the only woman on the Southshore Guard, Mariella slept in a small bunk area at the medical wing along with three other women. Two of them were medics and the other was a priestess.
Mariella's first reaction was to get up and seek out one of the three. Quickly, she pushed herself up, but a moment later she had dropped back, white-hot pain slashing across her left side and forehead.
Miniscule dots of light popped before her vision as her head throbbed painfully. Caressing her tender side, she let out a low groan of displeasure, a dull burn emanating from the apparent injury.
Mariella attempted to remember what had happened prior to waking up in her bed but all she could recall was standing on the beach and staring at the town docks.
With another groan of frustration and discomfort, she glanced in the direction of the door. Currently, it was open, a low flicker of torch light pooled on the floor. Straining her ears, Mariella could make out the distant sounds of a commotion somewhere in the actual infirmary.
Steeling herself against the impending upsurge of pain, Mariella forced herself out of bed with gritted teeth. Slowly but surely, she stumbled clumsily through the open doorway and down the dimly lit hall.
Pausing at the edge of the long, much more lighted room, she viewed the hectic scene before her. Four of the beds that lined the infirmary's walls were occupied by soldiers. Mariella recognized two of them as Wilkes and Dosier, however the other two were so caked with grime and blood she couldn't make out their identity from the semi-distance.
Both medics rushed about the injured soldiers with bandages and potions, crimsons stains smeared across their fronts. Then, Mariella's gaze settled on the large, imposing figure of Sergeant Dean fully armored and half-shadowed in the corner as he stood back from the frantic nurses. Just behind him stood his second-in-command, Greenweld. He looked pale and somewhat spooked, however, unharmed.
As she watched, the sergeant reached up to remove his helm. His expression was deeply serious and grave as he watched them at work. Loose strands of brown hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead and dirt was smeared thickly across one cheek. He appeared to be bleeding from his right brow.
Mariella took a few shaky steps into the room, her own injuries paling in comparison to her fellow bed-ridden guards. Neither of the women seemed to notice her, but both Greenweld and Sergeant Dean looked up at her movement.
At once, Sergeant Dean's expression softened and he strode forward. Placing an arm around Mariella's lower back he began to steer her gently back toward her quarters.
"Mariella," he said softly. "You shouldn't be out of bed."
In a flash of defiant anger, she took several steps before planting her feet as firmly as she could on the cold stone floor. Due to the sergeant's strength, this resulted in her nearly falling on her face before he stopped at her resistance.
"Wait!" she said loudly, surprising herself with the volume of her voice. She felt like a naughty child who had been caught out of bed with a fever. This was demeaning. She had just as much right to be here as he. "What's happened, sir?"
He gazed down at her peculiarly.
"Do not be concerned with it right now, Mariella. You need rest. You've been-"
Mariella stamped her foot. A moment later, she was reeling in pain and clutching her side. With a weary sigh, Sergeant Dean began to usher her away again with his gentle insistence.
"You shouldn't be up."
"No!" Mariella cried, digging her feet into the ground once again. She attempted to push past the sergeant but he was too big for her in her weakened stated. "I-… want to-.. know- …what happened!" she grunted, throwing her weight against him futilely.
The mingled expression of mild amusement and concern on the sergeant's face only infuriated her more.
"What's happened to them?!" she cried in utter frustration.
Wordlessly, Sergeant Dean encircled his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Shocked and bewildered into silence, Mariella let herself be placed carefully over his broad shoulder.
"What..? What are you doing?! PUT ME DOWN!" she screeched as he began to tramp out of the room. Just before they turned into the hall, she noticed she had finally caught the attention of the two nurses.
Mariella tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but pain stabbed through her body with each movement. Finally, she resolved to lay still and instead continue her verbal assault.
"I DEMAND to know what's happened to my fellow guardsmen!" she spat at the nape of his neck. The scent of sweat and pure masculinity began to overpower her senses. "Um, sir," she found herself adding.
A moment later, they were back in her sleeping quarters.
With gentleness a man his size belied, he bent over and set her on the bed. For one heart-stopping moment, their faces were inches apart as Sergeant Dean leaned over her, one large, gloved hand on either side of her prone figure. Their eyes met and Mariella's breath caught in her throat.
Then, he was gone, standing upright and retreating toward the door as he spoke.
"Earlier this evening we received word there would be an attack on the western watch tower. I and most of the other men were stationed in and around the area when Greenweld arrived telling us the eastern tower had been ambushed. By the time we arrived, the bottom of the tower had already been infiltrated." He paused in the door frame, his back to her.
"No men were lost, but several were injured. Those who you just saw in the infirmary are the worst off." His head was turned to the side, allowing Mariella to just make out his handsome profile in the clinging darkness. He looked ominous in the flickering, barely-there torchlight of the hall.
"Good to know," Mariella replied coldly. "Now, I'd much rather be out there helping Connie and Annette tend to the injured men and I would also prefer not to be treated like a child." Mariella made to get out of bed, pushing her hair behind her ears and realizing for the first time that her hair was slightly damp.
"No," Sergeant Dean said, stepping through the doorway and turning to face her. "As your sergeant, I order you to stay in bed and get some rest. Otherwise, that gaping hole in your side will never close up."
With that, he swung the door closed behind him, casting Mariella in complete darkness; the only sound the sergeant's boots clumping heavily as they faded down the hall.