Yuragwyn: Ours

---Chapter 20

Kaitra∞

                We spend the next two days climbing out of the mountains and back down to the plains, which still hold tightly on to the warmth of the fast fading summer and early fall.  The messenger, Liesa, travels with us, telling us much of the conditions of the country as a whole.  Prospects seem to grey even as the sky lightens in Quieve, for Entel has fallen, and the northwestern coast is little more than an ash heap.  Even Maxen’s whimsical, carefree spirit is made rather soggy with her tales. 

                But they all look to me with eyes big and round in hope and certainty that I can weave a magic spell and whisk the Granzians far away.  They trust completely in the idea of me as a savior, as this Daughter of Yuragwyn.  They would follow me to the end without a second thought.

                I wish I was so worthy.  I wish I was so trusting.  I wish I was so brave.  I wish I had someone to lean on, to learn from, to help me make such crucial and uncomfortable decisions.  I wish I could stop fooling myself into thinking I can live up to the ideal born for me, sneak into Cordina, and take up my dagger from my chest to return definitively to my mountain.

                “Lady Kaitra,” A centaur trots up to me, tail swishing, sword brandished.  “Lord Cadfael approaches with a unit and asks to see you.”

                I scan the horizon for a glimpse of the man I now must admit is my father.  The idea, though foreign, is almost a sweet one.  I can learn to love this man, maybe, when peace is a more prevalent state than war.  “I will go out to meet him then.”

                “And I shall go with you,” Honorable Urien says staunchly, pulling alongside his pegasus.  His manner is cool and very tense, but I dare not refuse his company.  Hiltraud stays respectful feet behind us as we go. 

                Two people sit at the head of the long rows of soldiers, one in a thick green outfit and the other in a blooming costume, with a thick white braid on her down her left shoulder.  They smile at me, and I return the gesture shyly.  The closer we get, the more I take in the notion that these two, soldiers and leaders of a country, are my parents: flesh, blood, soul, and heart. 

                I dismount and step quickly between their pegauses as they slide off.  I fall into their arms and simply hold them.  They squeeze me tight and pat my hair and thank goodness I am safe and well. 

                “Where is Calanthe?” I ask.

                My mother smiles, “She stayed in Cordina with Master Hulderic and Madame Rhiannon.”

                “The Master’s health is failing,” my father adds, “but he is peacefully waiting to see you succeed, dear one.” 

                Honorable Urien clears his throat, and Lord Cadfael lets go of me to extend his hand to his comrade.  Honorable Urien grips it stiffly with only a small, forced smile.  “Where is my daughter?”

                “In Cordina at Llyendal,” Lord Cadfael answers. 

                “Then I shall be on my way to retrieve her.”

                “But Urien, she is much safer in Cordina than out here and also much happier.  She has suffered long in Pan and in Shajen.  She must rest.”

                “And who allowed her to go where she could be captured?” Honorable Urien challenged.  “I will have my only child with me.  She will return to her mother in Lax.”