Chapter 9

The roar of men and clang of metal met me in my sleep that night. I stirred restlessly but could not escape the dream of the battlefield I was stood upon. I was dressed in thick leather that spread across my torso and around my pelvis. My thighs were covered in a thick, pleated skirt that fell to my knees and I had thin, thong sandals on. My hair was down and swept this way and that in the strong winds that crossed the open field. It was a tangled mess, ravaged by the weather and clumped with blood, sweat and mud. The braids that had tried to hold it back had been pulled out long ago.

Cuts littered my arms and body. Some were bleeding and others an angry red with dried blood covering them. I barely felt their sting for the adrenaline that surged through me like wildfire. Arrows whistled past my head and I looked behind me to where a line of at least one hundred archers were knelt, their eyes upon the enemy across the war-ravaged field. At the end of the line Jasper stood shouting orders to them and upon his command another sheet of arrows whistled over my head.

A nearby scream sounded familiar and I turned to see Ben Cheney fall to his knees, his fingers clutching a deep wound at his side. In an instant I was running across the field and into the fray of battle. I had been in and out of it for many hours now escaping on many occasions with just a cut. I dared not count my luck. Kneeling down next to the fallen soldier, I took a flask of alcohol from my pocket, pouring it over the wound to the sound of his agonized screams. Suddenly Ben grabbed my arm tightly his eyes widening as he looked behind me. I turned, grabbing the hilt of the sword that hung at my hip. Unsheathing it in one swoop, I lifted it, meeting the enemy's with a resounding clang. The shockwaves rattled through the iron swords, hurting my wrist, but grim determination kept the crazed man from killing myself or Ben.

In a swift motion the man lifted his sword, sweeping it around in a large arc and bringing it down towards my side. I parried still on my knees, digging the tip of my blade into the bloodstained dirt to block the swipe to my side. Again the sharp blades met with a resounding clang and piercing scrape. Grabbing a handful of dirt, I threw it up into his eyes to buy time to get to my feet and I was barely there before he had removed the dirt and lunged for me. I staggered back as his full force met mine, a rock catching my foot as I stumbled. This time there was no Edward to catch me and I fell backwards. My hand reached out to break my fall, landing on the dagger of a fallen comrade, whilst my back fell across their lifeless, bloodied chest. The cut to my palm was deep, so much so I could not work my fingers to hold my sword. The man towered over me, his expression victorious as he raised his sword for the culling blow.

His victory was short lived as the weighty sound of a blade pushed through bone and flesh rent the air and a blood red point emerged from the center of his chest. An arm wrapped about his neck, the hand reaching for the angle of his jaw, pulling him back onto the blade before his head was turned sharply. The sickly snap of his death was swift as his limp body slid from the blade. Emrys stood behind him, his face and body as dirt ridden and bloodied as mine. Holding out a hand to me, I took it, relief filling my body as I let him pull me up.

"What the fuck are you doing out here?" He cursed heavily. About us the battle was nearly over, the number of those dead nearly outweighing the survivors. Men were shouting to Edward awaiting orders as another wave of arrows flew overhead and shields were lifted to block the onslaught. We ducked, still clinging to each other.

"I would not be anywhere else, Sir." I replied smiling and breathless with the effort of the battle.

He rolled his eyes, before taking my injured hand in his, his palm covering the wound. White light shone between our hands and warmth spread across my palm. When he removed his hand, the wound was nearly gone. Looking over my torso he smirked, "You do like to challenge my healing abilities."

The whistle of a lone arrow was heard a fraction of a second before I felt the sharp drive of iron and wood through my chest. I fell to my knees, Edward falling with me, holding me and cursing. My eyes grew wide, unable to take anything but the shallowest of breaths. Blood pooled into my mouth and I coughed it away, but it only started to seep from my nose, blocking my airways as I tried to breathe.

There was the sharpest pull at my back, like a claw of a lion pulling the insides of my chest outward and I opened my mouth to scream but there was no air, just a gurgled gasp. Edward threw the arrow stained with my blood aside, and as he lay me back I felt so cold. I could not feel my arms or my hands. Instead I just looked at Edward apologetically. We should have known, it was too soon; it was always to soon. I studied his beautiful face as it faded from me, the cold, wet of his tears falling on my face, a contrast to the red blood that trickled from the corner of my lips.

"Not now Olwen. Not now." He implored me and begged me, but I was falling away from him and his voice. My breath unable to come and my heart hurting in my chest as it worked to pump around the little blood that had not left me already.

I awoke, gasping, clutching my chest, sweat beading my forehead and ran my hand across my lips. Nothing. No blood. No arrow wound or dagger cut to my palm. Shoving the coarse blankets from my body I took a mental inventory of my legs and there was nothing but the cuts from my night in the forestry. I collapsed back onto my pillows, startled by the clarity of my dream. Sleep did not return to me for many hours that night.

Alice touched my brow with her hand. "Do you need to see Carlisle? You look terrible Bella." Her blue eyes shone with concern as I sat beside her, the task of dressing her forgotten as she beheld my sleep deprived state.

I shook my head, smiling gratefully as I held her dress up, "No. I just did not sleep well."

Alice nodded, mollified for now as she lifted her arms and I slid the dress over her head. "I am not surprised, it must have been horrible out in the forest over night. I do not know what possessed me to allow you to go after them…" She trailed off and her smile was sly and mysterious.

"What?" I questioned warily.

She shook her head still smiling. "Nothing… just that I am amazed how you manage to walk around here with such decorum and etiquette but really you are as hardy as the boldest of knights."

I blanched at her words and Lady Alice frowned. "Really, what is wrong? Did something happen in the forest?"

"No. Not at all, I just had a bad dream last night. That is all, nothing to concern yourself with my Lady."

I could tell Alice was not overly convinced but she let my evasion slide for now and nodded. "Emmett is calling the Weber's to court. He says it is ready for the feast he will hold in celebration of his survival, but I am not convinced. Sir Jasper mentioned that he is doing it as a gesture of thanks to Emrys. Emmett hopes he will take a fancy for the Lady Angela. They will be here tomorrow, so why not take a rest today as I will need you for when the Webers arrive."

I nodded, but could not help the clench of my gut at the idea of Angela being called forward as a potential match for Edward.

Before being dismissed, I helped Alice dress for the day and went to inform Olivia, another Lady in Waiting, that Alice required her. I then walked through the castle as if in a dream state, pouring over my dream. I did not know how much of it was based upon what I had witnessed in the forest, but I knew the potency of dreams and this one unsettled me deeply.

I do not know how I came to be there or when I had made the decision to go, but as I slipped into old Siobhan's little hut I longed for answers. She sat across from me wearing the same knowing, if slightly crazy, half smile she had worn before.

"So." She began when I failed to speak. "You believe it is him at last then Isabella."

I nodded before remembering her failing sight and croaked out a soft. "Yes."

"So now you want to know about Olwen." She surmised and did not wait for my answer before she hobbled across the room to pick up an old, tattered book. She leafed through the pages slowly squinting close to better read the words. Then she turned the book and slid it across the table to me.

There was a crude drawing of a girl. Her face delicate and beautiful and her hair braided and black in the pencil sketch. Her body was clad in protective leather attire, a pleated skirt hanging to her knees and a long blade at her side.

"Does that answer your question?" Old Siobhan asked after my silent study of the image.

"No." I croaked though my dry throat.

The old lady merely chuckled. "It is nothing but a curse. She is his mortal lover indeed."

"She still lives?" I surmised from her words. Surely she would refer to the girl in the past if not?

Old Siobhan merely hums, "Yes and no, child." She rubbed her thumb across her lips as she seemed to ponder how best to explain. "She was a mortal girl and always will be. Legend has it that she came from the same village at Emrys, they fell in love and she died. Since then she has returned to him countless times only to die a mortal death until she is reborn to be with him again."

"Is – is she alive now?" I asked hesitantly.

Old Siobhan sighed looking at the picture and then back to me. "I think that is a question for Emrys to answer don't you think Bella?"

My fingers trailed over the picture. What did this mean for my dream? Was it coincidence or more? I was so confused. The only answers I had could come from Emrys and that in itsself was a challenge. I still felt exhausted from our last encounter.