(-a/n- I'm utterly gob smacked by the fantastic amount of wonderful people who left me a review last chapter. All I can say is thank you, thank you, thank you! You and you alone are the reason that I'm spending many hours of my holiday writing :D I promise to try and get the next chapter up faster than this one ;D )
Confusedknight xx
Now that Kel had left Somalkt far behind only the soft tramping of Prince's hooves disturbed the oppressing silence. The night was warm and the air lay over the land like a suffocating blanket, heavy and immobile.
Both girl and horse journeyed steadily onwards following a path that twisted and undulated through the mountainous terrain. Kel was filthy. Beneath her armour her linen shirt was still damp with sweat and clung uncomfortably to her skin. She smelt terrible; from head to toe Kel was covered in dirt and blood. Fly away strands of her knotted and tangled hair flapped onto her tear-stained face.
Kel wasn't riding Prince; she was just sitting abreast him, slumped and too tired to cry anymore. Her injured arm was resting on her lap, seriously aching now and flaring with pain every step that the big gelding took.
When Morning came she revealed a barren, jagged landscape, all grey and dusty for as far as Kel's puffy eyes could see. The sun rose in the cerulean sky along with the temperature and the scene surrounding Kel began to shimmer.
Kel's head began to swim as the heat haze intensified. She was dehydrated and exhausted. Unable to think straight or even consider her options, she sat passively on top of Prince, swaying slightly as the gelding picked his way carefully down the sloping path.
Time played tricks with Kel's mind and it could've been minutes or hours later that they reached the bottom of the valley. Prince, perhaps sensing the deteriorating condition of his rider stayed in the shade as much as possible, climbing over loose rock cautiously. Kel was not thinking at all, she seemed to have left behind that ability somewhere along the way. The only thing that she was aware of was the pain, the pain that was not only physical -her broken arm and assorted other injuries- but also emotional.
Once again she had found herself on the road, alone. She travelled because she was unsure of what else to do. She had lost everyone all over again, the people that she had cared about. For years she had immersed herself in the Scanran campaign, forgetting all else and now she was to leave that behind too. At some point, if she ever made it back to Tortall, she would have to face everything that she'd been ignoring for so long.
For now however, Kel was lost in the depths of Scanra and didn't need to think ahead to the time when she would have to face the friends and family that she'd left behind in Tortall.
As her mount rounded a bend in the gorge Kel saw vaguely that valley widened out. The rock became sand and beyond the sandy beach lay a massive lake that sparkled blue in the sun.
Whinnying tiredly, Prince trotted down to the water, Kel bouncing around on top of him like a sack of potatoes. The chestnut stopped at the water's edge and lowered his mouth to the fresh water, lapping thirstily. After a moment's pause Kel slid off of his back and onto the damp sand.
Her legs wobbling Kel grasped at Prince's solid mass to steady herself and without taking off her shoes, she waded into the lake and knelt. The chilly water elicited a response from the almost catatonic girl.
She washed her bloody hands in the water, gingerly scrubbing off the dirt and wincing every time her butchered wrist moved slightly in it's makeshift splint.
Like her horse before her Kel placed her head to the water and slurped messily, letting the liquid sooth her sore throat and fill her empty stomach. One-handed, she washed off her face, feeling a sense of relief as dirt and sweat left her pores. Kel knew she had to be clean, had to be rid of the blood from the battle, so she pulled off her tunic, boots, breastplate and chain mail, leaving them safely on the sand. She then plunged up to her neck and for a moment the shock of the freezing water overpowered everything else.
Kel gasped with the cold. Her skin tingled all over as she rubbed her hair with her good left hand, trying to remove at least some of the filth. Shivering, Kel used the last of her energy to stumble back onto the shore of the lake. She picked up her belongings and somehow made it five metres or so to a large rock, which must have at some point fallen from the mountain.
It was in the shade of this rock that Kel finally collapsed. The sand's soft arms embraced her and she spiralled into unconsciousness. For the first time in over fifty hours Kel slept.
Unbeknownst to the sleeping thirteen-year old, the mighty wooden gate to Somalkt crashed open, splinters reigning down. Those men that were still defending the city closed their eyes in a moment of despair. Several dropped to their knees and prayed to Mithros for mercy. The women that had remained behind hugged their children, tears dripping silently down their cheeks, clutching their loved ones close and whispering soothing words in their children's ears.
As red soldiers burst into the city, a roar on every mouth at their victory, the weapons of the citizens of Somalkt dropped to the ground. The city was lost. Empty hands rose like a wave, surrendering the home of their ancestors to the invading forces.
The men had their fun with any remaining women and survivors were rounded up and herded onto the blood-soaked plain to stand among the fallen. Children screamed in terror as they were separated from their parents. Any injured were killed in cold blood; they were no use as slaves.
Maggur, a broad man six feet tall, strode among the captives like a farmer assessing his livestock for market. His eyes were serious, set too close together in a face that displayed a satisfied expression. He had shoulder length blonde hair with a beard to match and his demeanour exuded confidence and power. He, unlike his soldiers bore no signs of heavy fighting; his expensive tunic, embroidered with the Rathhausak eagle had not a fleck of dirt on it and the blade of the sword that rested in his hand was spotless.
None of the survivors of Somalkt spoke, terrified into silence by Maggur's imposing figure.
'Welcome to my clan,' said Maggur in a deep voice that carried far over the crowd of huddled figures. 'Soon the might of Rathhausak will unite this country beneath my banner. Look at what my army has done here today; we have broken open the "impenetrable" Somalkt like a fragile vase upon a rock. There is not a force left in Scanra that can pose any threat to me.'
He looked around at the cowed men and women and sighed audibly. 'It was stupid to fight,' he said softly in a voice that could be heard by everyone. 'Look at how many died here today.' Maggur kicked at a nearby corpse with one large, leather clad foot.
A woman cried out. 'Don't you touch him!' and ran at Maggur, flailing her arms. In one smooth movement Maggur's sword sliced through the woman's neck and she fell, her head landing several feet from her body. Scarlet blood dripped down the shining blade. 'That was foolish,' he said lazily.
'You are lucky that I am not eager to see any more blood spilt today. As of this moment you are all slaves of the clan of Rathhausak. Somalkt does not exist anymore. It will be raised to the ground as proof that nothing, nothing can stand in the way of my army.'
Even as these words left Maggur's lips a small group of men were sneaking northward from the conquered city, men that would stand in the way of Maggur's campaign or die trying. This small but determined band of battle-scarred men was led by the one man who hated Maggur more than any other; Alexei of Rathhausak, the man alone that would see Maggur pay for the massacre at Somalkt.
The first thing that entered Kel's awareness was a something soft and velvety lipping her cheek gently. She stirred. Something snorted in Kel's ear, it's warm breath tickling her ever so slightly. She rolled over. Something solid nudged at her shoulder and Kel's eyes opened letting in the gentle evening sunlight.
Groaning, Kel sat up and reached a hand out to pat Prince's muzzle. Although the sleep had been brief it had been enough to re-energise her brain. Kel quickly discovered that screwing up her eyes against the sunlight hurt; her cheeks were sore. She reached up her hand and felt the heat that radiated from her skin. She added sunburn to her list of injuries.
Standing up took an enormous amount of effort and willpower; it would be very easy to lie here on the beach for several more hours until the sun slipped below the horizon. However Kel knew that she should travel onwards.
She brushed the sand from her slightly damp clothes and walked stiffly down to the lake shore, the feel of the sand beneath her feet reminding her of days spent on the beaches of the Yamani islands when she was a child.
After drinking as much as she could without being sick, Kel returned to her possessions. The boots were replaced back on her feet, but Kel had no desire to put her smelly armour back on, especially in this heat. Instead, she stuffed the chain mail and tunic into one of the empty saddle bags on Prince's saddle and secured the breastplate.
Kel retied her knotty hair so that it was lifted off of her shoulders, allowing the slight breeze to play around the back of her neck. With a grunt of exertion she mounted Prince and they set off into the stillness of the summer's evening.
Even as the night fell and the temperatures dropped Kel continued to press on. She hadn't got the faintest idea where she was, nor where she was headed. Some logical part of her brain knew that she should try to find some civilisation. There was water in the mountains; lakes and streams would see that she did not die of thirst. Food was another matter entirely, but Kel was no stranger to going hungry.
Having found their way down into this vale, Kel could spot no useable pathways out again and so they simply followed the valley along. In some places it narrowed right down to a gorge and in other places, such as where the lake was, it stretched wide forming basins in the landscape.
On her third day of travelling the valley opened out onto rolling hills and pasture land. By this time Kel was weary, dirty and extremely hungry. She was saddle-sore and had taken to walking alongside Prince to give the stoic horse -and her behind- a rest.
Kel had practically slept in the saddle and had come a long way, putting many miles between her and Maggur's forces at Somalkt. All the time she rode she kept a look out for any signs of human life, but was unsuccessful in her quest.
After months of living in a thriving, bustling city, Kel's isolation weighed on her shoulders. She had tried to sing to herself to pass the time, but she quickly stopped; her voice had echoed nastily around the valley, merely emphasising her seclusion, not to mention that her voice was still hoarse and painful from the battle.
That night Kel decided that she needed more than a couple of hours sleep and so in the last rays of the sinking sun, she stopped Prince and dismounted. The first task that she set herself was to clean her sword and armour. The mixture of dried blood and sweat reeked, so she scrubbed the metal work clean using her tunic and laid it to dry on the soft grass.
Next Kel foraged for food, unable to bear her empty stomach any longer. She found a few bitter berries on a prickly bush and ate as many of them as she could find, wincing slightly at the taste. Now that the land was greener, Kel was able to find roots and other plants that she hadn't been able to in the rocky valley. None of it was remotely tasty, but it reduced her hunger somewhat.
With thirty minutes or so to spare until sunset many rabbits had poked their heads up from their subterraneous burrows to enjoy a nibble on the long, juicy grass. This gave Kel an idea. Using her head band as a sling she gathered several round pebbles.
Her first ten shots fell wide and Kel gritted her teeth in frustration. Each time, she gathered up her pebbles and waited for the rabbits to resume their grazing. Finally, just before dark Kel managed to stun a rabbit with a sharp blow to it's temple.
Not waiting for any sympathy for the creature to appear, Kel quickly and cleanly snapped the rabbit's neck. She used her dagger to cut the still warm creature open. In the fading light Kel quickly sorted out meat from organs.
The red meat was warm and sticky. With no way to cook it, Kel chopped it into small pieces and swallowed, chewing as little as possible on the slimy meat and trying not to gag at the taste.
It took a lot of self control to keep the meat down and keep eating, but Kel managed it. Her stomach was fuller than it had been in over four days. Before she slept Kel washed her hands and mouth thoroughly with water from the stream.
Sleep came quickly to Kel that night, although with it came terrible scenes of the battle. When Kel awoke for the third time, cursing Gainel the dream king, she decided that she would rather climb back into the saddle and ride on than face those memories again.
By day Kel rode, her mind full of tumultuous thoughts and worries and by night she slept badly, dreams plagued by vivid replays of the battle. She could see men dying, their faces contorted by pain, thrashing and twitching whilst Kel watched, burdened with the knowledge that it was she who had caused their suffering.
She refused to cry, because Kel felt that if she started crying then she would never stop. She had to focus everything on finding her way out of the wilderness and back to her homeland.
The landscape changed slowly and Kel observed the subtle differences through uninterested eyes; an odd evergreen tree here and there changed to small thickets and then into larger woods. Kel's first excitement was discovering a small homestead, but her hopes quickly evaporated as she drew nearer and discovered it to be in a state of abandon and disrepair. She didn't linger, not letting her mind dwell for too long upon the fates of the people that had once lived there.
So she continued travelling, snatching odd, uncooked meals here and there along the way. Kel's feet were blistered and bleeding from walking. Despite this pain, she still walked for hours to give Prince the regular rests that he deserved.
On her sixth day of travelling Kel unsheathed her sword and stared down at the weapon that had been used to kill so many. Resolutely she lifted Courage up and twirled the blade through the air, following one of the most complicated patterns that she knew.
It went wrong about halfway through and Kel grunted with frustration. Sweat was beading on her face and she could already feel the cotton shirt sticking to the dampness on her back. Scanran summer was unforgiving and the sun beat down from early morning to late afternoon with a fierceness that reddened her skin.
Kel had long since rolled up her shirtsleeves and breeches to allow for the little breeze to play across her bare skin. Wiping her forehead, Kel returned to the task at hand and began the pattern once again.
When she finally completed the intricate drill after several attempts a small feeling spiked through her, one that made a nice change from the anxiety and guilt that had been plaguing her -it was satisfaction. She had achieved something that not any average swordsperson could.
Words echoed in her ear. Keladry of Mindelan you make them listen. It became almost a mantra in her head as Kel rode and practised. She pushed herself to jog instead of walk, trying to maintain her fitness. Sometimes Kel made herself light-headed from all the exercise and little food. She fought the feeling off and kept pushing onwards, forwards never looking back.
A brown smudge on the otherwise green horizon. A line of slowly moving shapes blurry in the heat of the day. Kel barely dared to breathe, not wanting to raise her hopes only to have them come crashing down.
She sprang nimbly onto Prince for a better look. Yes, she was sure that those shapes were moving. Cautiously, for she was too far away to tell if the people were friendly or not, she kicked Prince into a trot, her eyes never leaving the tiny figures.
There was a certain disarray about the group of people that told Kel that they were not military. Any of Maggur's soldiers would be marching in a close, tight formation. These humans were struggling along, their group staggered and dotted with horses pulling wagons.
Kel spurred Prince on and she surged on top of her horse, relishing the speed at which the countryside was flying past. As she approached the bedraggled group of people she slowed from her canter into a slow trot.
A man bearing a loaded cross bow stepped forwards, his eyes darting from Kel to the people he was prepared to protect.
'I don't mean any harm,' said Kel, her voice husky from disuse. 'I escaped from Maggur's forces and have been travelling ever since.'
'Where're you headed?' asked the man, cautiously lowering his bow.
Kel shrugged, 'Anywhere that Maggur isn't.' She ignored the whispers that seemed to be circulating behind the headman.
'We're travelling to Maeslund,' said a tough-looking woman who stepped forward next to the man. 'We're refugees from Miltrak.'
Kel's steady hazel eyes took in their shabby attire and loaded packs, these people had probably lost everything.
'Maggur turned our town into an army barracks,' piped up a young man with a scarred face.
All eyes were on Kel, expecting her to tell them her story. 'Somalkt fell,' she said abruptly, 'seven days ago.'
The muttering grew louder and the adults all shook their heads, expressions grave.
'Can I travel to Maeslund with you?' asked Kel, biting her lip. She was tired of travelling alone.
The short woman with leathery skin nodded and turned back to the thirty or so individuals that had gathered behind her. 'Well it's no good hanging about here.' And the weary travellers trudged forwards again, Kel tacking on the edge of their train of horse-drawn wagons.
The wagons contained all the worldly possessions of the refugees from Miltrak. Kel was filled with anger at the injustice of Maggur's campaign. These had probably been peaceful citizens whose only crime was living in the wrong place. Maggur had just taken their houses and livestock without giving them any compensation.
Kel dismounted and approached a woman who was pulling on the sleeve of a young boy with a runny nose and tears in his eyes. 'My feet hurt,' he whined. The boy couldn't have been older than Isra. All of the younger children were perched in the wagons, but those of eight or so had to walk. The boy's elder sister was also trudging along stoically but Kel could see the blood that had soaked through her poor quality shoes.
'He's welcome to ride Prince,' Kel offered to the stressed looking woman. The woman looked Kel up and down, taking in her man's clothing, sword and splinted wrist. Kel could sense that the woman's pride wanted her to turn the offer down. Fortunately the woman had more sense than pride and she nodded briskly.
Kel scooped up the little boy and placed him in front of the saddle. 'You can get on as well,' she told the waif-like elder sister, helping her up to. Prince didn't need leading and he trudged after Kel, bearing the slightly heavier load with dignity.
The woman watched her children riding and though she said nothing to Kel, relief was evident on her face. Kel didn't mind; she was not the sort of person that needed to be thanked.
That night the refugees stopped and a camp fire was made. The younger children, not tired from a day of riding in wagons pranced about whilst their exhausted parents and older siblings set about cooking some food.
The meal was bland –rabbit and a few potatoes, but to Kel, who had been surviving on raw meat and berries for the past week, it was possibly one of the best things that she'd ever tasted.
After the meal Kel hovered awkwardly. The children scampered nervously around her, wary of the sword-bearing stranger whilst the adults remained aloof, chatting amongst themselves in tight knit groups.
Kel decided to go and have a wash in the river to try and lessen the smell of sweat that hung about her. Once she'd cleaned herself up as best she could, Kel sat with her toes dangling in the river, her boots beside her on the grassy bank.
Midges hovered in swarms above the slow running river, unaffected by Kel's presence. On the far bank rabbits cropped enthusiastically at the grass. Crickets clicked away contently, filling the air with their sound. Kel sighed and lay back on the warm grass, inhaling the heavy scents of summer.
She didn't close her eyes, for as soon as she did horrific images would fill her head. So Kel stared up at the dusky purple sky, watching the odd bird flit across her vision. It was so peaceful here, the rolling fields and woodland teaming with live. A stark contrast from the plains of Sekholm where thousands lay slain…
'Oh sorry,' said a gentle accented voice. 'I didn't see you lying there.'
Propping herself up on her elbows Kel looked to the speaker. A heavily pregnant girl with protuberant eyes was climbing down the bank. Kel was shocked; the girl only looked to be about fifteen.
Not much older than me, thought Kel, unable to comprehend having her own child. The girl washed her face in the stream and Kel lay back down. Although she had found company in terms of people, she felt no less isolated. She wasn't sure why she felt so set apart; was she afraid of losing more people, or was it that she still felt tainted by the battle?
Kel knew that she'd had no choice in war, but taking human life was nothing to be made light of. For every life that she'd taken, she would have to save a life to balance it out. Great mother, she prayed silently, comfort those families who are now without fathers because of me. Please let there never be such a battle ever again, help Alex to end the bloodshed for everyone's sake.
Kel sighed, wondering if the goddess ever heard her prayers. She rolled over, aware of the long grass tickling her face in the gentle breeze. Sleep was slow to visit Kel that night.
The black cat's tail twitched, as though flicking at an invisible fly. One elegant, long-fingered hand smoothed the fur on it's back absent-mindedly. The creature turned it's face upwards, letting the lamp light illuminate it's purple eyes.
The lady who petted the cat lifted her emerald eyes from the mirror that she held in her free hand. The cat meowed softly and stretched it's forelimbs. It stood and turned, peering intently at the mirror, examining the scene that the beautiful woman had been observing.
A young girl lay on a bed of wild grass, curled on her side. She wore ragged clothes but a sword was strapped to her hip even as she slept. As the cat watched a shadow passed across the girl's face and she flinched, her hand clenching at her side.
The small cat turned his face upwards, his amethyst eyes connecting with the goddess's startling green ones. A question was on his face.
'No little one,' murmured the goddess in a voice that was terrible as it was soft. 'Keladry of Mindelan will make her own way in the world.'
The cat turned back to the mirror where the sleeping warrior who had strayed so far from home still lay in the grip of her nightmare. For a moment the cat felt like arguing with the goddess, but after a pause he jumped off of the lap that had been his temporary seat and set off in search of something to eat. The goddess watched him disappear around the corner, his black tail whipping out of sight.
She sighed; yes Keladry of Mindelan would have to prove that she could make her own way in the world.
The breeze that filtered in through Kel's nostrils evoked old memories. The warm air was salty and Kel reminisced of days spent on the white sandy beaches of the Yamani Isles with her parents.
Sure enough, as they topped the next ridge the town of Maeslund sprawled beneath them, and beyond that the sea sparkled in all it's enormity.
Kel mounted Prince and said a few awkward goodbyes to the few refugees that she'd actually conversed with. As she rode away, she silently wished them all good luck, hoping that they could find somewhere to stay, preferably away from Maggur and his armies.
Due to the slow speed at which the refugees travelled it had taken Kel a further three weeks riding alongside the scanran families to reach her current destination. Along the way, without even realising it, Kel had turned fourteen and entered another year.
Kel cantered into Maeslund and slowed to a trot when she hit the busy streets. Prince was glad to stretch his legs and tossed his head happily. As they headed down through the markets towards the sea there was an overwhelming smell of fish. This fishy smell too reminded Kel of the Yamani islands -fish made up a large part of the Yamani diet.
Finally the houses fell away and all that separated Kel from the ocean was a sandy beach and to the left, a sturdily built harbour. Within that harbour lay a boat that would take Kel on the next part of her journey.
(-a/n- So what'd you think? I'd love to hear from you :D )
Confusedknight xx