Before she saw them, Katrina heard the arguments, the loud and harsh voices, and the prominent clatter of metal against stone. If it wasn't for the verbal distortions, one would actually assume that the city was getting ready for siege.
As soon as the narrow path gave way to the wide, somewhat imposing marketplace, Katrina rushed to the uneven, slightly curved wall of a building in an attempt to mask her position. Hands clutched the dress tightly, her narrow, apprehensive eyes scanning for danger.
Numerous soldiers moved erratically through the numerous paths and ran on the main road while several, more organized ones clogged into groups that patrolled a certain area. It wasn't the numbers that surprised Katrina—after all, she was married with a captain. Their purpose—the reason they suddenly burst in the open, conquering the peace that made its nest on the city earlier—was what puzzled her.
In the distance, there were more guards, joined by several others that walked side by side with them. It was easy to ignore the cloth or leather covered people, as they were a common sight, but when Katrina squinted her eyes, realization struck her. The guards were leading the people away.
Katrina shook her head in bewilderment and pushed herself away from the wall. She had to be away from the sick, and the guards were a familiar sight to her.
Just as she was about to stride in the open, a fast, shadowed figure dashed past her, his arms almost knocking her down. Due to the shock, her legs buckled awkwardly, threatening her balance. When arms failed to find support, Katrina's steadiness dwindled and the ground rushed to meet her.
The sudden shock affected her more than the pain that flared in her arm and knees. Her senses were muffled, the sight was hazy, and she barely noticed a second figure that lashed towards the first.
A wild cry of pain rippled through the small alley.
Katrina blinked several times to clear the colorful dots that clouded her vision, but concentration came hard when her stomach threatened to unload its contents. Sick and sore, Katrina could barely understand why she was sitting there.
A powerful shout suddenly erupted, but it was replaced by the same feral wail she thought she heard earlier.
Katrina closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to alleviate the debilitating nausea.
"Nasuada is deranged," the man yelled as one guard dragged him away. "Galbatorix crippled her judgment."
"Your stomach will meets my fist again if you speak lies, traitor." His train of words faded quickly as the crowd engulfed the two of them.
"Lady, can you get up?"
Katrina looked upwards. The guard who looked at her with concerned dark eyes was young, but the hardship of battle imprinted its permanent touch on his bony face. Unwavering as he seemed, clad in his metal armor, this young soldier was a part of the ones that perished first in battle.
"Can you get up?"
Katrina nodded curtly and pushed her body upwards, allowing the now steady legs to do the rest. She did not like the way this young lad frowned, or the jittery look in his eyes and the constant and irritating stomp of his left foot.
"You're not with them, are you?" the man asked as he inspected her body from head to toe. "I mean…"
Katrina stared at him blankly.
"Heh, I mean, you carry a child, and I don't think you would risk both of your lives. Understand what I mean?"
Before Katrina had a chance to reply, the man began to touch her dress in different places, prodding certain areas with his fingers that he was not even supposed to touch.
Feeling threatened by the sudden invasion of her privacy, Katrina shouted wildly and pushed the man away from her.
Stumbling backwards, the man looked at her apologetically and tried to approach, but Katrina swung another hand at him. Backing away cautiously, the man glanced towards the marketplace.
"Heh," he chuckled, looking at her awkwardly.
"I'm sorry for doing that. I had to check, understand what I mean? I mean, you could be one of them even if you don't look like one of them," he said quickly and ran towards the same direction he looked at earlier, leaving her alone and confused.
Instinct proved stronger than bewilderment, and Katrina swiftly overcame her own reluctance. Still, after the recent encounter, the number of guards intimidated her due to the nervousness and frantic movements she glimpsed earlier.
The sick will send someone after you, Sloan's voice said in her mind. Dying beasts always lash out on the harbinger of death.
Katrina tidied her dress, gulping emptily. If Lehmontecte found her here, he would drag her back into the den of the sick. The butcher would become the butchered.
And her child would never see the light of day.
I must, Katrina thought, forcing her legs forward.
As the narrow pathway gave way to the road of the marketplace, Katrina felt her worries trailing behind. Lost in a sea of shouts and guards and people, Katrina felt protected and confident that the sick couldn't spot her in all the gaudy mix of colors and people.
The crowd made little efforts in avoiding her. Even if Katrina never intended to visit the herb stalls, the way home was more tedious than she anticipated. Numerous times had she been nearly knocked down by a dashing guard, or pushed to the side by a jittery man, or scratched by a desperate woman that latched on her dress like a tick.
This image of Feinster made her feel uneasy, stranded in a city she could not fully comprehend. Most of the guards evaded her, but many converged on people who wore brown tunics or leggings. One time, Katrina barely suppressed a scream when a guard drove his sword through an armored man's guts.
The monotonous thump of feet and the screams of protest grated against her ears. Going home was no longer what she wanted. Her desire was to escape, to disappear. And make the noise stop.
"Lady Healer."
Blood almost froze in her veins when the deep voice reached her ears. Vision become foggy, and the ground began spinning eerily. Katrina closed her eyes, inhaling deeply while her shaking legs threatened to buckle and give in.
"Lady Healer."
A cold, firm surface met Katrina's frame, her body shuddering due to the sudden contact. Her legs gave in, but the weight they had to suffer was now someone else's burden. Icy sweat drenched her body, but her senses were alert once again. And the rough touch of his short beard on her face confirmed Katrina's suspicions.
"Lady Healer, you were not going to trade for herbs," Lehmontecte said worriedly, his tone solemn and devoid of any comfort Katrina hoped to sense.
"I—wanted to—"
Yelping, Katrina lurched on her feet when Lehmontecte grabbed her body with his strong hands, pushing her away from his clean, polished breastplate.
"Back in my village, such behavior is not frowned upon, but punished."
Katrina tried to say something, but Lehmontecte shook his dead.
"You abandoned them," he grunted. "You gave them hope, then stripped it away from them."
"I am not a healer!" Katrina blurted. It was the truth, and the only thought that crossed her mind. However, even this certainty did not provide Lehmontecte with what he probably wanted to hear.
A wry smile stretched along his gaunt face. "I know. Fran told Mardo and I."
"Then?" Katrina looked at him pleadingly, her eyes moist with tears produced by her panic attack. Maybe Lehmontecte would take pity on her disheveled, weak appearance. Her deception proved effective more than once.
His hand moved towards the pommel of his sword. "You lack compassion, kindness," he whispered, staring at her with sharp, mahogany eyes. "Poor child…"
Katrina's eyes narrowed. Lehmontecte frowned, his grip on the sword tightening. She couldn't run, or escape him. The loud swarm of guards would not even notice her death. Guards were trained to kill silently, and Lehmontecte would show no clemency.
Katrina's gritted her teeth. Lehmontecte closed his eyes and sighed. If she couldn't evade his sword, then her life was forfeit, along with her child. The shiny breastplate looked so neat, so beautiful. It was the last thing she would see, and notice.
The image of the soldier who killed an armored man suddenly flared to life in her mind. His breastplate was clean and polished. The groups of what she thought were guards were, in fact, city guards escorting others with better armor. In order to survive, Katrina had to let the guards notice Lehmontecte.
Katrina wailed from atop her lungs, the shrilling sound stunning everyone, except Lehmontecte. Eyelids parted, revealing the same mahogany eyes. Only that there was no spite present in his gaze.
Lehmontecte unsheathed his sword and extended his hand towards her. "Take it," he said urgently. "Leave the city. Travel safe, and stay away from Feinster. Fran and Mardo…"
Katrina yelped and jumped backwards when Lehmontecte suddenly dropped to his knees, his words cut off instantly by an arrow that embedded in his left leg.
Katrina froze. Her mind was blank, and her body suddenly refused to obey.
"Lady, are you alright?" A guard shouted. Before she even saw him, another one joined him. Both of their swords were unsheathed, pointing at the fallen soldier.
"He wanted to kill the Lady, I'm telling you!" The second guard cried desperately.
"Aye, he's a scum," the guard with the bow said, kicking Lehmontecte. His hands clutched the area around the arrow, and his face was contorted due to pain. Soft, sporadic whimpers escaped his mouth.
"I'm not enemy," he said, looking at the two guards. Despite his injury, there was clarity in his voice.
"That's what they all say," the bowman chuckled, kneeling down besides Lehmontecte. After beckoning at his comrade, they picked him up slowly by the arms. "But they will all be executed."
"He lies, I'm telling you!"
"Dumb fool," the bowman spat.
Katrina did not even flinch. She could not do anything, not even understand what happened.