The Borderlands The Memoirs Of Lord Tristan

Part 3-Chapter I

The following is in accordance with the records of Lord Tristan Belmont son of Lord Faedin and Lady Lena. And is in accordance with the records of Lady Genevah, daughter of a mystery. This is written by me, Eva Caesarea, daughter of Malik. We dedicate our story to Lady Genevah. May she rest in peace.

...oOo...

On the day Tristan showed kindness to me was the day when my life hit rock bottom. I am the auburn haired girl previously mentioned in Lord Tristan's records. I was in want of food and very thirsty. I had no friends in town and no place to call home. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I lived in a vulgar community, where a wife was rarely better off than a slave.
After an agonisingly long day with no food or water, I had to admit defeat. Having nowhere to go I decided that my only option was to find Tristan. He was the only man in the last few years that was nice to me. By inquiring after him I soon located the inn where he was lodging. It was one of the rougher looking inns, rather grimy and dirty. I entered and asked if I could see a man whose name was Tristan. The innkeeper looked me over and muttered in a barely audible voice.
"Interesting attire."
No doubt he was talking about the nightdress I wore. I suddenly became self conscious. I was immediately shown to Tristan's room. When I knocked I was met with a pained response.
"Come in."
I opened the door and was witness to a most unpredictable scene. Instead of having a crowd of girls around him—for he is very, very handsome—there was what could only be a physician. I had noticed, of course, that Tristan was bruised, especially his face, but never did it occur to me that he could be that badly injured. Almost half of his face was bruised around his left eye, he had a split lip, the most horrendously black and blue midsection I have ever seen—for he had his shirt off—a flesh wound on his side, though not deep, and what could only be whiplashes on his back.
I put my hands to my mouth. The physician was stitching up his side. Tristan's jaw was clenched tightly as if to hold in the pain. When he saw me a startled expression appeared, replacing the grim one.
"Sorry, I shouldn't— I..." I stuttered while blushing profusely. I was about to leave out of sheer embarrassment when he spoke.
"You needn't leave. I just wasn't expecting you," he said, wincing as the physician stuck the needle into him.
"Oh, I just, I don't have anywhere to go, and I was wondering if, maybe— could you help me?" I asked.
"Help you how? I don't have any money to spare, and I don't know anyone around here that you could lodge with."
"Just help me get out of here. I'll go with you wherever you're going."
"Are you sure? You don't know me, and I'm a hunted man," he replied.
My chest tightened.
"Who is hunting you?" I asked, cautiously.
"The Raiders," he said.
I gasped. "Are they the ones who...?" I ventured, breaking off.
"Who did this to me? Not important. But if I were you, I would go back to my...family." He closed his eyes and a look of internal pain crossed his face.
"Why don't you go back to your family?" I asked, in a slightly accusatory tone. I didn't like being told what to do.
One of his tan hands went to his face, as if to relieve a migraine.
"Because my family is deceased," he said, after taking a shaky breath.
I bit my lip, I had walked straight into that. I decided that he deserved an answer from me.
"Because if I return to my family they'll send me back to my husband," I said and shuddered.
I watched his face closely, the whole time I had talked to him he had looked ill at ease. And now I knew why, and it made my heart soar. It was because he found my nightdress indecent, unlike others he had looked anywhere but at me. And that's when I knew that I could trust him.
"Where are you planning to go?" I asked.
"To find my uncle, my last relative still alive," he said.
"Oh, are you hoping to live with him...?" I asked, slowly.
"No, I'm looking for information. He sent something, but he's not the giving sort." His face filled with consternation.
"How do you know that he sent something?" I asked, curiously.
"My mother was half way through telling me, but died before she could say what it was," he said.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"It's not your fault," he said tightly. "But if you're intending to go anywhere you'll have to change," he said, still not looking at me.
"Oh, I almost forgot," I said, "My name is Eva Caesarea."
"Nice to meet you, I am Tristan Belmont," he replied.

After an act of generosity from Tristan I was appropriately dressed in a short sleeve white linen shirt, a long green skirt, a pair of comfy boots and a long warm black woollen cloak. It was almost as if he had adopted me. We began to make our way out of Xor and toward Talise.
"Tristan..." I began, cautiously. "How old are you?"
"Two and Twenty," he replied. "And you?" he asked, looking down at me.
"I am only fourteen," I replied.
"Dare I ask how long you have been married? Also, why did you run away?" he asked, hesitantly.
"I was married to him at twelve," I said watching his features. A look of disgust crossed his face, this encouraged me and I continued. "I was his seventh wife and therefore, as far as anyone was concerned, unimportant. He was abusive to all his wives, but especially to me, as I was the youngest. After a year and a half I tried to escape, but failed and was beaten, and now I've actually escaped," I said.
"I'm sorry, that must have been very hard," said Tristan, deeply.
"I've told you my story, what's yours?" His soft hazel coloured eyes misted slightly as he looked off into the middle distance. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed it encouragingly.
"Well, I grew up as a very privileged child. I was the son of a Lord and a Lady, I ate three meals a day, had a private tutor and slaves did my bidding, but things changed about four months ago. My father died and a new slave came into my service. This new slave was very beautiful and had a very sweet and gentle spirit. I had liked her since the beginning," he said, forlornly. "I freed her from slavery and I asked for her hand in marriage. That week was the happiest of my life.
"But I had heard a report that the Raiders were gathering to devastate the plains. I prepared as best I could and I even requested His Majesty's Army. In a desperate attempt I gathered all the fighting men I had. The night before the battle someone snuck into my Manor. An assassin, I believe. I killed him first.
"My fiancée, Genevah, went into battle with me. She wouldn't have it any other way. We were out numbered fifty to one. There was no chance of survival, everyone died, but me." He paused to blink a couple tears away. "Anyways, I was captured and tortured for information that I didn't even have. I managed to escape. I went back to my Manor, but it was burnt to the ground and everyone was dead except for my mother, who was almost dead. She told me that my uncle had sent something, but died before she could tell me what it was. So I'm trying to find him, he used to live in this city up until a month ago," said Tristan, disappointedly.
"Tristan I'm so sorry! That's terrible!" I said almost choking up, imagining what he was going through made me feel horrible. He was only two and twenty, yet he had endured horrors beyond the imagination of many war veterans.
"It's not your fault Eva, none of it is. It's my fault. I'm the one to blame," he said with pursed lips, a tear escaped and darted down his cheek.
A long silence ensued. I didn't know what to say, but I felt a sudden urge to change the subject.
"Where is your uncle now?" I asked, abruptly.
Tristan didn't miss a beat, he answered my question succinctly, "I don't know."

By this point we had passed out of the city and were on a dirt road. Tristan gestured that we should mount the steeds.
"I don't know how to ride," I said.
"Here I can teach you," he said.
His emotions seemed to have changed in the blink of an eye, and I marvelled at this new phenomenon. He helped me mount, which was quite a task as I had rarely even touched a horse, let alone ridden one.
"Squeeze the horse in between your knees," he said.
I obeyed.
"What do I hold onto?" I asked nervously.
"You're knees hold you on," he said.
"I don't like this," I said, fearfully.
"I won't make you, but can you just try?"
I nodded.
He directed the horse into a walk. The horse obeyed and Tristan walked next to me encouragingly, occasionally putting a firm hand on my knee to suppress my fear. 
Suddenly the horse jerked to the left to avoid a lizard. I was off balance and fell off the horse without even a proper attempt at recovering the saddle. Tristan leapt forwards and caught me before I could hit the ground.
"Maybe it would be best if you rode with me," said Tristan.
I blushed at the thought, but nodded in agreement.
We had set our course for the next probable city, Talise. Apparently Tristan's uncle preferred to live in places with lax authority and low morals. I sat behind Tristan with my arms wrapped around his waist. Not tightly as I didn't want to damage his midsection anymore than it already was. The second horse that I would have ridden followed closely behind with the water and provisions.
His breathing was even, his body firm and strong, for the first time in an age I felt wholly and completely safe.