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Confusedknight xx
As the Progress crawled steadily east, news came from the North that a new warlord of Rathhausak had banded together an army and overrun Northwatch Fortress. The invasion had been short lived and General Vanget had soon cleared the enemy from the fort but it had been a shock to northern defences nonetheless.
This news frustrated and worried Kel in equal measure. Kel was dying to hear any scrap of information that might give her a better idea of what was going on in Scanra, however it was all she could do to stop herself from rolling her eyes as knights and squires alike discussed this "new" warlord. Surely the Whisperman, with his entire network of spies had more up to date news?
Most seemed to think that Maggur had gotten lucky and that by the time Spring rolled around again, a new "barbarian" would have lopped off Maggur's head leaving the clans in disarray once more.
As much as Kel would have liked to see Maggur's head chopped off, she thought that the chances of it happening in the near future were very slim; not whilst he surrounded himself with men such as Stenmun Kinslayer. Maggur was far too cunning, had spent far too long building up his empire to be dislodged so easily.
Raoul at least thought that Maggur was a threat and confided in Kel that unless the situation could be resolved soon, the likely outcome would be war. Kel kept quiet at this statement; she had known for years of the impending war, and she alone in the Progress knew just how much trouble they would be in when it arrived.
As they neared Naxen where the Progress would stop for the month of Midwinter, the Third Company received news of a village severely damaged by a landslide. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and the heavy sleet had weakened the soil of the hill that towered over Ravenslye. A mixture of stone, mud and ice had crashed into the village, destroying half of the buildings. With worse weather on the way it was imperative that something was done to help the townspeople.
Raoul had found Kel sitting with her fellow squires in one of the large communal tents that had been erected since the weather had turned bad. His ruddy face was pink with cold but he was beaming from ear to ear as he told Kel the news.
She leapt up, thrilled to finally have something to do. In record time Kel had packed away her belongings and at the recommendation of Raoul had pulled on oilskin trousers, a thick cloak and on a whim, wrapped a headscarf around her head to not only keep her hair out of her eyes but her ears warm too.
It took less than forty minutes to assemble the entire company and soon Kel had swung herself into the saddle. Most of the men were dressed as she was; for a hard ride in unpleasant conditions. There was simply no point wearing smart uniform and sparkling armour when in a few hours they were likely to be soaked through and mud-spattered.
Kel checked that her glaive, bow and shield were all securely fastened to her saddle; they were. Following Raoul's hand signals, (it was easier than him trying to shout over the howling wind) they rode out of the camp, past the onlookers who'd come to see them off.
A couple of hours into the ride it began to rain and fat droplets raced from the sky, driven by the raging wind onto chilled faces, frozen fingers and sopping horses of the King's Own. For the first couple of hours their oilskins made a valiant attempt at repelling the water and Kel was thankful that at least some of her was dry. Prince wasn't as lucky; his head was bowed against the weather, rivulets of water running down his rain-darkened flanks, up to his fetlocks in mud.
'Isn't the life of a warrior glorious?' Raoul said, not looking quite as cheerful as he had done a few hours previously.
The bad weather persisted all day and well into the night. Kel lay in her warm bedroll, her hair still damp, staring upwards as the tent shuddered and swayed in the wind. She wasn't aware of falling a sleep, but the next thing she knew she felt a horrible dampness and sat up only to find her tent inch deep in water.
Cursing, Kel tried to salvage as much as she could, lifting her pack off of the floor. She felt down inside. Luckily her oilskins were still safely dry on top, but the shirts and breeches at the bottom were sodden.
Hopping up and down to try and keep her feet out of the freezing muddy water, Kel all but leapt into her boots and slightly damp oilskins. She was just standing there in middle of her tent, clutching her possessions and wondering what on earth she was going to do next, when Kel heard a shout from a neighbouring tent. Evidently the water had found it's way in there too.
She stepped out into the night, hearing all around her the sounds of men waking in partially submerged tents; this involved much shouting, exclaiming and swearing. Kel's eyes strained to see through the dark, until someone with the Gift threw up a ball of magelight into the air.
'Who picked this campsite?' asked Raoul's good-natured voice.
'You did sir,' pointed out Dom, whose hair was dishevelled and shirt dripping wet.
'Breakfast anyone?' called Volorin.
The men, rather than moaning about the weather set about dissembling the camp in a stoic manner. Kel helped once she'd deposited her bag along with all the other soaking ones. Fed up of her cloak, which just trailed in the mud, she bundled it up too and left it in the wagon, resigned to the fact that she was going to get wet.
An hour or so later, as the sun was beginning to rise, they set off through the drizzle. Kel was looking thoroughly dishevelled; her hair was plastered to her head and her shirt clung rather tightly to her body, something which judging by the look Dom gave her, he appreciated.
As they trotted steadily north the air temperature dropped and Kel's teeth began to chatter. She fought to control them. At lunchtime, noting his squire's blue lips Raoul drew out one of his own, massive quilted sweaters and deposited it over Kel's head. It was far too large, but Kel smiled gratefully; all of her own clothes were soaked through.
They rode on and pitched camp that night, making sure that they were on higher ground. By the next morning the rain had turned to sleet, fat lumps of which landed on Kel's face, slithering down her nose to drip onto Prince's sopping coat.
By the time the Third Company reached Ravenslye it was hard to remember what being dry felt like. Most of the village had escaped relatively unscathed from the landslide, although the streets were filled ankle-deep in mud that was beginning to freeze. Kel followed Raoul across to inspect the structural damage nearer the slope with difficulty. She would tread on the icy surface, only to have it break under her weight and drop several inches into thick black mud. Raoul didn't seem to be having this problem and broke through the ice straight away so that every step he took made loud squelching noises.
Two houses were beyond repair, but there were seven or so others that were not damaged enough to compromise the safety of the building. The worst loss to the village as a whole was damage inflicted on the food that they had stowed away in the barn, part of which had been carried away on the tumult of mud and rock that had hit it.
Raoul drew up relief plans that concentrated on three main tasks. Firstly and most importantly, the slope must be secured so that no further damage could occur. Their second task was to repair what they could and clean the mud that had found its way into houses, cellars, wells and streams. Last of all was replenishing the damaged food supplies, both by hunting and by sending an envoy to the nearest Fiefdom requesting aid in the name of the Crown.
Every squad was assigned a task and set about their jobs doggedly in the sleet that still tumbled from the grey sky. Kel and Raoul were not ones to stand about whilst others worked and Raoul, joined those lifting timber. In the meantime, Kel collected a spade and started trying to clear the worst of the debris from the cobbled streets.
Grateful faces watched in all directions, lining doorways and filling up lit windows. Kel supposed it must be comforting for those who lived out here in the wilderness to have the support from the Crown. She smiled and waved at a girl who sat in the window of the house opposite where she was shovelling. The girl dived out of sight, embarrassed that she'd been caught staring.
A little way down the street someone cried out. Kel looked up from her digging, alarmed. One of Dom's squad members, Luke, had slipped over into the muck. His comrades were doubled up laughing, at least until fat handfuls of mud came flying their way. Yelling like a group of children, a mud-flinging fight ensued. Kel watched, amused, and strangely glad that even in a job as inglorious and as gruelling as theirs could be, the men still retained a sense of humour and camaraderie.
By the time the streets were mainly cleared and night had fallen, Kel was as wet as it was possible to be and as muddy as those who had joined in the mud fight. It had finally stopped raining and as the filthy company congregated, awaiting the instruction of a man that they would follow into death, a small group of shabbily dressed villagers emerged from a local house.
'We wan' a thank ye fer gittin' 'ere a quick. 's not allus city folk helps folk as us,' the man began, in his thick accent.
It transpired that the villagers wanted to thank the men, by offering them proper shelter overnight. As if on cue, the man of every household came to the street and collected two or three soaked, tired men, to offer them a roof over their heads for the night. Kel waited with Raoul until the street was almost empty, before picking up her sodden pack and following the headman and her knight-master into a wooden house that had escaped the onslaught of filth.
Almost immediately a large-bosomed woman descended upon them both, fussing and clucking. Kel stood there for a moment, overcome by the warmth given off from the crackling hearth.
It was not a big house by any means, but it was homely, warm and filled with a delicious smell. They left their filthy shoes by the front door and stood dripping and dirty on the doormat.
The woman bustled about in a motherly manner and encouraged the pair to remove as much of their soaked clothing as possible. Kel removed Raoul's jacket and her oilskin trousers until she was dressed in just her hose and shirt for decency's sake. Raoul had removed everything except his breeches.
'You poor mite,' the woman ushered Kel over to a metal tub behind a screen. 'Have a good wash now, that'll set you right. And we'll get you some of Josie's old clothes to wear while yours dry out.'
With little choice in the matter, Kel stripped off behind the wooden screen and stepped into the warm water. She scrubbed herself clean, acutely aware that her knight-master and a strange family were in the same room, albeit out of sight.
Once there was no residual mud in her hair, Kel clambered out and wrapped herself in a fraying towel.
'Right you get out here so the Lord can have a bath and we'll find you sommat to wear.' Covering as much of herself as she could with the towel and fighting a blush, Kel stepped out into the main room, trying to avoid looking at Raoul. As she climbed the steps up onto the house's second level, she heard the water sloshing as Raoul entered the tub.
Josie, it transpired, was their seventeen-year-old daughter who had recently married and moved out. Kel had to borrow everything from a fresh loincloth to a breast band and was then bedecked in a shift and overdress made from coarse, warm wool.
With large grey eyes and black hair, Risa was an extremely friendly, talkative lady who wasted no time in telling Kel all about her seven children. Josie and Brin, the two eldest had moved out, leaving four youngsters and a baby, all apparently waiting in the room next door for permission to come and meet the guests.
Kel followed Risa back downstairs where she found her knight-master hanging out their damp possessions on the wooden beams that crossed the low ceiling. He was dressed in the simple clothes of a countryman, clothes that were slightly too small for his massive frame.
Seeing Kel arrive he grinned at her; it wasn't often he got to see his squire in a dress. Kel smiled and started to help by unrolling their soggy bedrolls and with the use of a stool, hung them from the rafters. Just as Kel was finishing off, a distraction arrived in the shape of four young children barrelling down the stairs.
The tallest made a beeline for Kel. At ten years old, Lydia was extremely inquisitive and was keen to hear every detail about why a fifteen-year-old girl had come to answer the village's summons. When Kel explained that she was Squire to Lord Raoul, a thousand other questions tumbled out, and somewhere in the middle of that;
'Can I do your hair?'
'Pardon?' Kel asked.
'Can I do up your hair?' Lydia repeated. 'I love to make people's hair pretty, but since Josie moved out I haven't had the chance….' she gestured at her three younger brothers who were all watching Raoul with expressions of awe on their faces.
'Alright,' Kel agreed, hanging up the last sheet.
Kel sat on the floor in front of the hearth and answered Lydia's questions whilst allowing her hair to be twisted, plaited and played with. Kel was used to this treatment from Isra and sat dutifully still.
'Lydia come and wash these vegetables for me,' commanded Risa. 'Stan go and help your father…Oh not now!' she exclaimed, hearing a loud wailing drifting down from the upstairs room. She was stirring vigorously at the saucepan in her left hand. 'Rolf go and fetch your brother, on second thoughts, don't I'll get him in a –'
'I'll go,' volunteered Kel, standing up and climbing up the creaky staircase. There were only two rooms upstairs; the one Kel had got changed in, where she presumed Risa and her husband slept and the other room for the children.
Kel had to climb over pallets and scruffy teddy bears and rag dolls just to reach the cot where the bawling infant lay. She lifted him free of his blankets and held him tightly, bouncing the child ever so slightly and making soothing noises.
When she returned downstairs, the boy was still crying, hiccoughing and drooling, his red face screwed up angrily.
'He'll want changing,' cried Risa over the din, now trying to stir the pot with one hand and knead dough with the other.
'Where's his things?' asked Kel.
Rolf pointed to a wooden crate by the screen that hid the bath from view. The lid was stiff and heavy; Kel couldn't remove it one handed.
'Sir?' she asked. Raoul came over, eyeing the baby warily. Kel held out the screaming baby and Raoul shrank back. Smiling slightly, Kel nodded towards the box. Raoul got the lid up without much trouble and Kel was able to pull out a fresh linen cloth for a nappy. Deftly removing the soiled one and wiping the baby clean, Kel knotted a clean nappy onto the infant and pulled down the tiny shirt. The babe quieted immediately.
Kel scooped him up and held him over one hip whilst she dealt with the smelly nappy. When she was done, Kel caught Raoul looking at her with an odd expression on his face.
It was a mixture of surprise and shock. Kel knew that noble born women weren't meant to know such skills; they had maidservants and wet nurses for that, but Kel mused if she'd been a commoner she could have already been married off with small children like the one she held in her arms. Kel looked down at the baby's sharp blue eyes and unblemished skin; it was an odd thought.
Kel felt oddly homesick, watching the children race around the small house, providing more of a hindrance than a help. It reminded her of the several happy months she spent in Dundine with Jacqui, Eron, Isra, Hal and Meah.
Stan returned with his father, clutching an armful of freshly chopped wood. They built up the fire so that the pots suspended above it began to bubble merrily.
Half an hour or so later, the family had seated themselves at the table, passed around plates and had begun to serve themselves some of the steaming hot food that lay in front of them. Kel and Raoul were given large portions of everything and Kel tucked in with gusto.
'Me wife's allus been good cook,' said Yrem, the headman through mouthfuls of cooked vegetable.
'Are you from up north?' Kel asked.
Risa nodded, 'My uncle was a merchant who matched me with Yrem. I suspect you can hear the difference in our accents.'
Kel nodded, 'And I know that this-' she held up what looked like a doughy dumpling, 'Is northern food.' Risa nodded, beaming.
She pulled apart the slightly salty dough to reveal the familiar brown contents; a mash of strong-tasting root vegetables. It had been a favourite of Fanche's.
As Kel ate the dumpling she looked over at her knight-master and almost laughed out loud. Coughing, as though clearing her throat, she caught Raoul's eye. He had been trying to bite his way through a tough vegetable; obviously not realising that the outer layers had to be peeled off first. Very deliberately Kel picked up the same vegetable on her plate and pulled off the stringy layers. She then lifted it to her mouth and nibbled off the fleshy outer rim, clearly leaving the harder core. Raoul's eyes conveyed a look of thanks as he set about eating the vegetable correctly.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was so homely that Kel truly began to relax, laughing as the younger sons flicked vegetable skins at each other. Risa and Yrem tried in vain to keep the peace. Not a single scrap however went to waste and by the time Kel helped Risa to clear away and wash up she was very full indeed.
After dinner, the adults crowded onto chairs around the fire whilst the young children lounged on the hearthrug.
'Go fe'ch m fiddle,' Yrem instructed his eldest remaining son, Stan.
The boy, who couldn't have been more than eight years old, obeyed eagerly. When he returned with the stringed instrument his father took it from his hands with the familiarity that soldiers displayed with their swords. He lightly twanged the strings, twisting pegs to tune them accordingly. When he was satisfied, Yrem raised the instrument to his chin and began to play.
It was a jolly tune that started off slowly and sped up into a lively jig. Yrem started to sing the no-nonsense song that accompanied the music and was shortly joined in by his children, all of whom sang enthusiastically. The second song that Yrem performed was in the style whereby the lead singer sang first and the rest copied. Feeling warm, sleepy and content, Kel joined in.
Kel had experienced a lot of singing during her time in Scanra. There had been the singing on the slave plantations; voicing desperate hopes as a means to survive in almost unbearable conditions, then the singing at festivals, accompanied by dancing and other merriment, often with thousands joining in. Singing with Jacqui and the children at Dundine, singing with Alex as they travelled, singing to the despairing men at Somalkt in the midst of one of the most horrendous battles known to the country… Memories unfurled themselves as Kel sang, her voice pure and strong.
When they came to the end of a song that Kel hadn't known, Yrem asked.
' 'ave ye git song t'sing?'
Kel thought for a moment. The majority of the songs that she knew were Scanran.
'The Lily the Rose?' Kel asked after a pause.
'That's one of me favourites!' Exclaimed Lydia, 'Me an' Josie sang it.'
'Maybe Kel would sing it with you?' suggested Risa.
Kel nodded, 'Which part would you like to sing?'
'Bottom,' said Lydia decisively, 'Josie sang top.'
Yrem resettled his fiddle and started up the pretty tune. After a short introduction Kel and Lydia joined in, their voices soaring above the earthy tones of the instrument. Kel's eyes stared into the leaping flames of the fire and she lost herself in melody, pouring her slightly mournful feelings for the memories that had resurfaced, into the music.
When the song was finished everyone applauded, the young boys clapped madly whilst Raoul brought his massive hands together and raised his eyebrows at Kel who smiled, almost apologetically.
'Right that's it,' said Risa. 'It's time you lot were off to bed,' she gestured to her flock of children. 'And be quiet as you go about it, George is a sleeping upstairs.'
She followed her offspring, leaving just Kel, Raoul and Yrem.
'I'm 'fraid we git no space upstairs, so ye'll have t'sleep 'ere.'
'It'll be more than adequate,' Raoul assured him. 'We're grateful for your hospitality and sharing your lovely home and food with us.'
So it was that night that Kel and her knight-master lay on parallel bedrolls, watching the dying fire cast flickering shadows across the dark room, when Raoul finally confronted Kel about the evening's events. Kel knew it was coming; she had been a spy after all. She had known that when she had shown her familiarity with the baby, the food and the music that Raoul would pick up on it. It wasn't that she wanted to have this conversation, more that she had wanted to, just for one night, sink back into a simple home life, one without the burden of secrets.
In Scanra she had spent all that time hiding her identity, carrying with her the weight of all that had happened. Now she was here in Tortall and unable to share details of her two years spent in the northern country.
'Thank you for saving me at dinner,' Raoul said in an undertone, 'I hadn't got a clue how to eat that vegetable.'
And he had no reason to know either, thought Kel. It was a cheap, rather tasteless item of food that was eaten by commoners who couldn't afford to buy others. Wrapped in its leaves it could survive for much longer too.
Kel said nothing, lying unnaturally still under her blankets. After a slight pause Raoul pressed on. 'And that song you sang was lovely. You're full of surprises Kel.'
They lapsed back into silence until Kel spoke, feeling that she owed this nice man at least a semblance of an explanation.
'After…' she started, but her sentence fell away. 'When I ran away,' she tried again, 'I lived with a family for a bit. Just like this one. And it was nice, nice to be just Kel…It's simpler to live as part of a common born family.'
Raoul twisted round, squinting through the darkness towards Kel.
'What made you leave?'
Kel thought painfully of Fanche's and Jacqui's families, how easy it would've been just to live there permanently.
'There's wrongs in this world that need fixing,' said Kel quietly. 'I might not be the one who's meant to do it, but by the Goddess I'll help whoever is.'
Alex's face swimming before her eyes, Kel didn't sleep for a very long time.
Black haired and tanned skin that was the man's heritage, stood out in tavern filled with blonde individuals. Fortunately the air was dim and smoky, and the drunkards within could barely make out the cloaked stranger hunched in the corner.
One man did, his astute hazel eyes scanning the inn and locking onto the cloaked man. Casually sauntering up to the bar, he ordered two tankards of foul-smelling ale and made his way lazily over to the stranger.
Setting down the tankards, hazel eyes met brown. There was nothing in either of their postures that indicated the intensity of this gaze. They gripped hands silently over the table, two scarred warrior's hands meeting in a touch of friendship.
'Have you-'
'She's fine,' the dark haired man interrupted, barely moving his lips. 'A squire.'
Relief flashed across the pale face that had a barely healed cut down one jawbone, and a glimmer of a smile flitted about the corners of his mouth.
'I come to fight,' the darker man declared.
'It would be an honour.'
And without another syllable being uttered, Fassin the Shang Jackal followed Alexei of Rathhausak out of the tavern.
Hundreds of leagues away the only female squire rolled over, comforted by her dream in which Fassin had found Alex alive and as well as could be hoped for.
Eons further away still, Gainel the Dream King smiled.
The King's Own remained in Ravenslye for another two days until the final landslip barriers had been completed and supplies brought from nearby towns. Then it was back onto the muddy road for the company as they trod southwards at a brisk pace.
Whilst on the road one of the mages received a message from the King, who had grudgingly decided that their presence was needed more in the south than at fief Naxen. This put Raoul in a very good mood indeed, and even those who were disappointed at missing out on the Midwinter parties were glad to be heading for warmer weather.
On the way the Own helped build up flood defences at three separate villages, repaired a bridge that had rotted away and freed a small garrison besieged by hungry villagers.
Two weeks before Midwinter they skirted around fief Tirragen, through the last bit of Hill country and out into the warm sun of the Great Southern Desert. It was Raoul's plan to try and encourage some of the young Bazhir warriors to ride to Corus and try out for a place in the Second Company.
Qasim and the other Bazhir men were pleased to be returning to the land of sand and sun and were eager to share their knowledge of the desert with Kel; how to find the best places for water, which of the scrubby plants could be eaten and which were best avoided.
The first tribe they met were the Sandrunners and Kel was astonished to learn that Raoul
had joined their tribe many years ago, before he'd been assigned to the King's Own. The tribe were overjoyed to have one of their own return and the celebrations went on deep into the night.
A day and a half later they moved onto Qasim's tribe; the Sunset Dragon, and a day after that, they rode into very familiar territory indeed.
Kel hadn't quite worked out how to tell Raoul that she'd been adopted by the Bloody Hawk and had hoped that perhaps with a bit of luck, they wouldn't have passed through the territory of the Bloody Hawk; it was a big desert after all. Unfortunately, Kel's luck was to be found wanting.
All the riders dismounted and there was a general hubbub and confusion as Bazhir greeted soldiers, in particular welcoming Corporal Araam home.
The town's headmen were gathered in a small group and extended their welcome to Raoul and Flyndan. Set apart slightly Kel's eyes roved over the thronging crowd.
'El?' called a deep, shocked voice. It was Shar, his hair looking greyer than ever.
Knowing that she had been recognised and that others had heard, there was nothing for it but to greet Shar. Dropping Prince's rein Kel walked forward and was enveloped in a massive hug.
'Daughter you've returned home,' Shar said gruffly.
Raoul made his way over to see why a Bazhir man was hugging his squire.
'My lord, this is Shar, his son is the Shang Jackal.' The two men shook hands.
'You must come to our tent, both of you. Laila has food waiting and she will be so pleased to see you. Here-' Shar beckoned for two teenaged boys to come and take Drum and Prince. 'They will be cared for.'
Kel, not daring to look at Raoul, followed Shar back to the large tent and ducked under its awning.
'My dear, Elinah has arrived with the men of the King's Own.'
Out of the corner of her eye, Kel saw Raoul's eyebrows shoot up almost into his hairline.
Laila, veiled as the women of the Bazhir always were, practically flew forwards to embrace Kel.
'Come, come sit down, you must be weary from your travels, let me pour you some tea.'
Moments later they all sat cross-legged on the soft woven mats of the tent floor.
'It is an honour to have you with us again,' said Laila, 'Anything you or your friend need, our tent will provide.'
'That is most generous,' murmured Raoul.
'Oh not at all,' said Laila, whose smile carried through the veil on her voice. 'We owe El a great debt for rescuing our son.' Kel realised where this was leading and she felt as though ice-cold water had been tipped all over her. Before she could say or do anything however Shar had said, 'She freed him from slavery in Scanra.'
Oh I'm evil! But you know how this goes; review and you will be rewarded with a new chapitre! Thanks to citrusfruit who agreed to step in again and point out spelling mistakes :D
Until next time,
Adios!
Confusedknight xxx
PS. The song 'The Lily The Rose' does exist and I think there is a video of a choir singing it on youtube if you're interested…