∞Kaitra∞
I walk into the expectant stillness of the tent and nod to the officers surrounding the table in the center. I see many of Calanthe's features in one of the men. This must be Honorable Urien. He has the same dark hair, and eyes. Middle-aged, with a scar on his left arm, he eyes me worriedly. I know he must be anxious for news of his daughters, and I am almost ashamed of the tale I must share with him.
I tell my tale completely, with great detail, from the moment we left the crowd in the plain before Cordina until the moment I drew my dagger and left the country of Granziar for safety in the other world. I watch their faces as they imagine the hardships of our journey. They hold the pain only those who have shared these experiences can, and Hiltraud's words the night before tear at my heartstrings.
Honorable Urien's expression is the most painful. His daughters are the ones currently suffering in a Granzian dungeon. His daughters are in harm's way, their lives hanging by Cyneric's whim.
"Well, we will go rescue them then," Lord Cadfael says, standing up suddenly. "Let's make the arrangements and organize a company for me to take."
"Lord Cadfael," Honorable Urien says, "Should I not go? They are my daughters."
Lord Cadfael shakes his head and places his hand on the arm of his old friend. "I need you here. Keep up these defenses. Kaitra, you will come with us. We need you to show us where you left them."
And with only a handful of spattered speech, we have formed into our parties and broken down camp. A pegasus is brought for me, and my thoughts wander to Traugott with a twinge as I pull myself up upon the creature. It is still an awkward transition, but I manage.
Honorable Urien and his unit march alongside us— they are heading back to Cordina for more supplies— and I watch the heaviness in his eyes. I hope that we are able to rescue his daughters. They need their father as much as he needs them.
The sun has passed its apex as we come within sight of the River Rapha through the trees. We follow much the same path that Hiltraud and I did, but the wood still gives me no hint of direction or location. How do they know where they are going?
A scream erupts from our left, and people and centaurs and pegasuses flood out from behind the trees, weapons brandished.
Granzians.
I fumble with my bow and arrow as our lines clash. Sweat beads down my forehead, my heart races, and I lose all hand-eye coordination. The arrow wavers near the string. Why can't I just notch it! Blood colors the leaves, and a few soldiers from each side fall to the turf. My frustration only hinders my actions. I want to cry and scream and hide in a corner all at the same time.
"Lady Kaitra, down on the right!" Hiltraud cries. I fall over behind my beast none too gracefully as an arrow flies over my head. A spare sword is thrust in my direction—I had set mine down on the general pile with the others in the flurry of packing— and I give up my archery for now. I must do something useful.
I rush around my braying and foaming pegasus and look for an unmatched Granzian to swing at. A woman a bit taller than me, with thick braids and hard-set eyes comes towards me. She brandishes a longsword, a thin, deft blade. I am unmistakably in her sights, and suddenly I am frozen in my small boots. This is no small, polite duel with Calanthe or Traugott. This is a fight through which to draw blood and the very life from her thickly-built frame. Am I justified in taking her life-breath? How do soldiers make such decisions? Maybe she is in a similar position as I, and she is oh so very consciously grasping the hilt so as not to drop it from the tremble in her nerves. Maybe she would rather run the other direction, back home, and not have to make such a terrifying choice.
But the glint in her eyes, the grit of her teeth, and the strength in her sword drive my squeamish sentiments against the tree next to us as my first strike is deflected into it. I clench my teeth at the pain in my shoulder. I must defend myself, or I will die right here, in this small space between crimson trees, and fail a country.
Even as the thud from her cold shell vibrates on the leaves below, my heart and my own trust in the goodness of myself vaporizes. I cannot believe what I have done. Her eyes glass over, then, and I find myself bending over to close them.
More swords come at me, and I fend them off with clenched teeth. My arms scream from my awakened burns, the scar tissue stretching this way and back and most possibly tearing under the strain. The sheer number of people swarming around me is blinding, crushing. Every breath should be my last. Why have I inhaled again? Do I deserve to live when I have kept several other people from doing so?
"Lady Kaitra!" a voice calls. A hand reaches towards me, and I take it and swing up behind Honorable Urien. We gallop off through the trees, followed by Yuragwynian soldiers on centaurs and pegasuses. I cannot see Lord Cadfael or Lady Carys.
"Where are my parents?" I ask him, frantic for their safety.
The weaving and bobbing is making me a bit nauseous as he replies, "They have continued on to rescue Traugott, Calanthe, and Briallen."
"But wasn't I supposed to go with them?"
"I will keep you safe. If you go back there, will they not recognize you and kill you? You are safer here than there."
I suppose he is right and relax slightly. Amazingly, my pack never fell off while I was fighting, and I am glad now for the supplies.
I cannot believe I made it through alive.
₰Traugott₰
Nothing changes in our lives. We hear no news, see no people, and do nothing. Calanthe still refuses to speak to me. We are more isolated together than we were when we were apart in Pon.
∞Kaitra∞
We make it back to Cordina by noon the next day, and I am immediately sent to Llyendal to make minor arrangements and open it as a relief station, mostly for soldiers. I know little of the place myself, but I search out the barracks and other bedrooms and the second pantry. Soldiers flood through the door and soon inhabit every inch of space. The lines for the baths are multiple hallways long, and the line for the pantries run just as far. Rooms are crowded, and tents sit in the courtyard and rolls lie on the floors of main rooms. There are bodies everywhere, and I can hardly move without stepping on someone.
It is a restless night, for the sound of breathing is akin to a chorus of whispers. I lie on Lord Cadfael and Lady Carys's bed; strangers dare not intrude on this sacred sanctuary. It is large and warm, but I feel lost in the mass of it. I feel powerless in this situation of disaster. Lives were ended today, lives of Granzians and lives of dearly treasured Yuragwynians. I can no longer deny the existence or extent of this war, and I am caught very tightly in the middle of it all.
Guilt drags me to the wash basin on the dresser again and again. My hands are raw from the washing, but they still feel stained by the blood I have shed. How can I live with myself now? I should have died out there. What if Honorable Urien hadn't happened upon me and pulled me to safety? Will Lord Cadfael and Lady Carys be alright? Are Traugott, Calanthe, and Briallen still alive?
My thoughts leave me to rest in the wee hours, but I am up at the dawn. I must take care of these soldiers. They have been fighting for many months, and they need a place of sanctum where daydreams of hope and winning can spring up again.
I round up a group to take care of the mound of laundry in the larder room. The work reminds me of Calanthe, and I ache for her return. It is hard to be separated from them now, even Briallen and Traugott. It is much harder to keep up my walls without a grinding force angering me into doing it.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and try to keep an active and superficial conversation alive with the men and women around me. Many of them are older, adults, but a few are probably my age, maybe even a bit younger. How do they endure such uncertainty and stress?
"Lady Kaitra, do you not need to rest? How are your burns?" A slightly older man asks me, taking a turn with the paddle.
I manage a small smile. "They are tolerable. I used a poultice last night."
He is satisfied, but my conscience is not. There was no need to lie, no need to deceive. My burns have not ceased aching since yesterday, and some of the scar tissue has torn under the strain.
Yet though I endure this pain, I do not speak of it. Why? Because of my own gallantry and tolerance? I laugh at the thought. I do not consider them now, I think, because in light of all these people have been through, my pain pales in comparison. And even in their misery, they choose to sympathize with me. This brings me to shame for my own self-centeredness.
"Lady Kaitra," Hiltraud comes through the door. His hooves stamp agitatedly. There is something terribly important he must tell me.
I follow him out into the hall, wiping the perspiration from my forehead onto the sleeve of my day dress. He towers above me and makes me feel small.
"Honorable Urien has asked us to go to Rite and rally reinforcements. The sight of you, the Daughter of Yuragwyn, might boost their morale. Are you well enough to travel?"
I sigh a bit. We just returned from my very first battle. I am tired of journeys and fighting and still swallowed up by my guilt. Why couldn't I have come in a year of peace?
But I must go. "When shall we leave?"
"After the noon day meal," he answers. "I have already packed a pack. You best go rest while you are able."
I remain silent and make my way up the two flights of stairs to Lord Cadfael and Lady Carys's chamber and collapse. This time, the largeness envelopes me, and sleep comes quickly.