∞Kaitra∞
Packing and traveling, already commonplace in my life, take little time, thought, or effort. Within the hour, Eglantine and I sit astride a sway back, blotchy white pegasus with a torn wing, a scar from battle past. She squirms uncomfortably under her pack and takes hold of his mane while I notch an arrow to my bow. I must be wary all the more, for Granzians are not my only concern.
The moon, already up for hours, shines a fickle light upon the dirt path that snakes away from a small gate in the wall. I close it behind us and mount behind Eglantine, who takes hold of the reigns and clucks to the aged beast.
He saunters off, and the rhythm of his hooves on the dirt is more akin to a lullaby than a battle cry.
The wee morning hours wane away and a morning grey and its dew settles thick on the two girls and their sorry steed. The terrain now is unfamiliar, but the rolling hills, more like my mountains in my world, are directly in front of us, so we have yet to get lost.
“Do you see them?” I whisper to Eglantine.
She sets the reigns down for a moment to roll the stiffness out of her arm. “I see a bit of what could be tents on the horizon there,” she points out to our left, and indeed, a thin line of a bit more vivacious green shivers in the burning mist.
“Well, we can try that way then,” I say.
“Come on, Caergwyn,” she nudges.
I can’t help but laugh a bit. “You’ve named him?”
“You don’t recognize him? This is Caergwyn, the great pegasus who carried your father into his first battles, the battle in which I lost my mother.”
An oppressive quiet settles over us, and I bite my tongue. “I didn’t. My apologies about your mother.”
“It is of little importance.”
//•••//•••///•••\\\•••\\•••\\
We make it to camp just as the soldiers are taking down their tents and rolling their packs. A young boy, hardly Eglantine’s age, offers to take us to Honorable Urien and bounds away through the preparing masses to a single, low tent in the very center that has yet to be taken down.
“Lady Kaitra!” He bellows, stomping out to meet us. “I believed you to be staying in Cordina. You should not have braved the plains alone in the dark! There are enemies about! Pray, what possessed you to make such a rash decision?”
“Master Hulderic sent me with a letter,” I respond.
Honorable Urien’s tone quickly changes from accusatory to apologetic. “Oh, yes.”
I hand him the envelope and step back politely. Honorable Urien gives it a long look over and shakes his head. “It is a trial, certainly. Kaitra, please take this word back to him:”
A commotion from the outer rim of camp causes him to pause and look around. Arrows began to rain down upon us, and I dare to take a peek at the sky stretching above us.
Granzians, mounted on pegasuses, fly about over us.
There is no cover here on the plains, and several fall reaching for their bows or mounting flying pegasuses. I string a few arrows and let them loose. The adverse effect of our arrows making their mark is the dodging the fallen bodies as the plummet down. Soon, though, we find a rhythm: shoot and roll.
“Kaitra, watch out!” Eglantine hovers above me, a bow in hand and an arrow in her teeth. She holds onto to Caergwyn, whom I never expected to get off the turf, with only her thin legs and lets the arrow go.
The man above me comes crashing down, and I only barely miss being crushed by his weight.
“Eglantine, what are you doing?” I scream. “You’re going to get hurt!”
She ignores me and tries to get another arrow on her bow. Caergwyn dips below a Granzian and his pegasus as she gets the arrow between her teeth. I take aim at the woman behind her and roll out of the way of the man Eglantine takes out.
Soon there are no more assailants hovering above us- they have either fled or met their end. Eglantine and Caergwyn circle down to the ground and she slides off and comes to stand next to me.
“What have we done?” She breathes.
Our survivors collect around me, but I take no notice of them. I look only at the men and women I have slain, the lives I have ended, and the murders I have done. They are piled together in small heaps, on top of tents and Yuragwynians, with arrows in their breasts.
“Kaitra,” Honorable Urien cries. I kneel down beside him. An arrow quivers in his boot, pinning his foot to the ground. “Cut off the head.”
I take the small dagger-not my own, but another- and lop off the feathers. Slowly, grimacing, Honorable Urien lifts his foot. The bloodied shaft gives my stomach a frightful turn, and it is all I can do to keep from retching the cheese and roll I ate at daybreak.
Finally he frees himself, and I hurriedly wrap his foot in thick bandages and find another pair of boots. Hiltraud organizes the care of the other wounded. By mid-afternoon we are in as much of one piece as we can get and are finally ready to depart.
Hiltraud clops up beside me and leans down. “Honorable Urien’s injury, though relatively fortunate, will still hinder us from being able to attack the Granzians well. The troops will rally behind you. Lead us until he is well.”
I nod numbly and take the sword he offers me. He then grabs my hand, “You shall ride me, not Caergwyn.”
With his help I manage to mount, and we wheel around and face the masses. “Let us go on!” I say.
A cheer erupts and we make our way across the plain with the mountains on our left. Honorable Urien rides on my right and Eglantine and Caergwyn ride on my left. I adjust my circlet and set my sights on the horizon.
It is a comfort to be with Hiltraud again. I know he will make wise decisions for us, for me. I can’t do this without him.
₰Traugott₰
The sight of Cordina, obviously wounded, with battered gates and chinked walls, was another straw upon my back, the next to last. My absence from the fight here, while it had bothered me greatly before, now burns into me with the thought of what took place here. I wasn’t here to defend these gates. I wasn’t here to protect the people inside them. I was playing with fire, blindly hoping I could redeem the trust of Master and Madame, Lord and Lady, and Honorable Urien and his family.
I made a rotten, miserable job of it.
Lord Cadfael rides to my side and places a fatherly hand on my sagging shoulder. “You did what was asked of you to the best of your ability, Traugott. That is all that can be done.”
His words, meant for salve, do little for my chapped spirit.
The hollow squeal of the gate hinges bounces off unoccupied or barely occupied homes. This ghost town, as it were, has admitted me as one of its natural residents. I am merely a vapor of what I once was, wispy instead of well-built, frail instead of fresh.
We make our way down the cobblestone street towards Llyendal. Calanthe rides up beside me and asks for my hand, which I give, for I need hers just as much. Things have been strained between us since Briallen’s separation, but we have been all each other has had for a few weeks, and any familiar person is a comfort in such times. I will keep my promise to Enion and protect his little sister until the end.
We dismount in the small cobblestone hollow in front of the manor and enter into the eerie, abandoned quiet there. Not a soul comes to greet us, and a passerby tells us it has been this way for four days now.
I step into the atrium and touch the banister as though I was seeing it for the first time. The whole of this house is a place in dreams, not a piece of reality. I cannot comprehend the Traugott that used to call this place his home. He no longer lives.
“Traugott, come with me,” Lord Cadfael says. “We must pay a visit to Master and Madame.”
We walk down to the castle and are admitted by a servant who immediately brings us into the great hall where Master Hulderic sits. We both bow, but even before I straighten, strong arms are around me.
“Traugott! We have worried for you often. Now, we rejoice in your safety!” He says, releasing me. “Are you well? Calanthe? Briallen?”
My tongue is furry and thick in my throat. “Calanthe is well, but Briallen...” I cough back my emotions. “Briallen is not with us.”