by Billy Wong
#
Mildy did not hear Ares call to her, having little mind to spare for anything but her own agony. Her opponent had fallen upon her like an avalanche, and her previous wounds slowed her enough to allow him a deadly opening. He pulled up on the sword in her stomach, attempting to slit her open, but her armor held the blade in place and saved her life—for the moment, anyway—as his efforts only began to lift her into the air. Still, she grew nearly blind with pain, and knew death could not be far away.
But damned if she wasn't going to take the bastard with her! She swung her flail, smashing a dent into the huge knight's helm. He swayed on his feet, sword dipping in his hands, and toppled sideways. Mildy fell with him, the blade sliding out of her body. She rolled back and forth writhing in torment, her senses threatening to slip away, but heard metal scrape against stone while her opponent regained his feet. He raised his sword and chopped down, giving her no chance to rise.
Somehow, she beat the blow aside with the rim of her shield and lashed out desperately with her flail. He hopped back. Mildy shoved herself up and forward with a hoarse yell. Her next blow snapped his head back with a satisfying crunch. He fell, his body stretching out motionless across the ground.
She clutched her belly tightly, eyes darting around in search of Ares. God, it hurt. She'd never felt such pain, and knew it to be a mortal wound. Her one hope rested with the Grail, and she doubted she could reach it by herself. But her squire was having troubles of his own.
Ares' opponent pressed him hard with his longsword's greater reach, and despite her wound Mildy thought to help. She took a painstaking step forward, only to hear the man who had impaled her lurch at her from behind. What?! He should have been dead, or at least knocked out. She turned, and his two-handed sword nearly cut her in half as she leapt out of reach.
"Damn you woman, you took my humanity! But now I will send you to hell, and God will save me!"
Mildy didn't understand what he was talking about, and didn't really care. His voice sounded a bit familiar, but she couldn't place it in her anguish. He was probably really just some poor veteran who had gone mad from the sight of too much death, and it galled her to think he might be the one to finish her off. He had already come pretty close...
She could barely move with the pain lancing through her torso, and felt as though she might collapse at any time. The knight slashed hard at her shoulder, and she threw herself jerkily aside. But even now, she fought back and landed another hard hit to his helm. His skull must have been broken by now, but he did not fall. Impossible!
He lashed out again with his great blade, striking sparks from the ground while she sidestepped a swing which would have taken off her leg. Another surge of pain, and she barely checked the urge to fall down and curl up around the hole in her gut. How could her blows not kill him? Even with a helm, few men could withstand a hit from her flail, let alone three. He came at her again. When she ducked a slash at her head, her pain heightened to the point she could not even stand up straight.
She changed tactics then, and from her low position smashed his knee with a heavy swipe. He fell on his side, whatever force that had kept him standing unable to save him from his destroyed joint. He cut awkwardly at her with his sword, but she broke his forearm now, knocking it from his grasp. To her amazement, he grabbed her flail with his other hand and pulled with inhuman strength.
Unable to match his sheer power, she let go only to kick it from his hand. The twist of her body made her scream in agony. Moaning while she walked, she forced herself to limp over towards his dropped blade. Suddenly she fell belly down, tripped by his hand around her ankle. Pain exploded through her as if a flask of acid had burst inside her body.
Her opponent was crawling over her now, reaching for his sword, and she summoned all her willpower to grab it up first. But she couldn't use it with him on her back. He punched into the base of her skull. Stars flashed before Mildy's eyes, and her vision dimmed. She rolled over, pitching him off, and struggled up. As he reached for her, unable to stand but still seeking her death, she took his sword in both hands and hewed off his head. It almost surprised her that he stopped moving.
A wave of dizziness weakened Mildy's legs, and she looked to Ares. She really needed him now. She started for him, proud to see him land a fatal thrust into his opponent's ribs without her aid. But the man shoved with his last breath, sending Ares over the wall's inner edge. Without thinking Mildy dove, grabbing out at any part of him she could reach. Her fingers closed around his hand, then her body hit the stone. Everything melted away into a sea of red anguish. Somehow, she held on. Nothing short of death would make her give up her friend.
His face came into fuzzy view below her, eyes wide as though he saw a ghost. She could hardly blame him for that, but he needed to focus on pulling himself up. "Come on, Ares, reach up... help me! I can't do this alone..."
Ares attempted to grab the edge of the wall with his free hand, but hung too low to do so. He took hold instead of her wrist, though that would hardly do more than buy him time. "Pull, Milady, please. It's just a short way up."
She gritted her teeth and tried, but her strength was draining away with the blood pooling beneath her body. Somehow she managed to raise Ares up inch by inch, yet then her blood-covered hands began to slip. She tightened her grip, stopping his fall, but knew she could not save him. Both of them were weakening, and it was all they could do to hang on.
"Hold on," a voice said behind her. Strong hands gripped her body, and she felt herself pulled off her belly to her knees. She held on as instructed, and Ares was dragged up after her. With a monumental effort, she turned to their savior. Gawain knelt beside her.
"You saved us," she breathed.
He frowned, his eyes hard while he scrutinized her wounds. "Well, I couldn't just let your incompetence kill the poor Greek boy. Anything else I should do for you?"
Mildy grew disturbingly aware of the blood soaking her undertunic front and back, but knew he could give her little help for that. "No, we're good. Go on, back to the fight. You wouldn't want anyone noticing you chumming up to me."
His gaze lingered a moment longer on her belly before he stood and strode away.
#
"We won," Ares said flatly, taking in Count Gorsin's forces in retreat or surrender all over the battlements. He felt awfully scared and sick and sore, and could hardly believe he had killed six men. Of course, he would be dead thrice over if not for Mildy and Gawain's saves. On her knees beside him, Mildy coughed a red mist. Ares put a hand on her shoulder as he eased hers away from her belly. He choked back a sob when he saw, and hastily let her cover it again. "Rest, Milady. I'll get help."
She seemed to understand he meant the Grail. Though slurred, her voice was alert as she said, "No, not here. Get me back to the tent, where no one can see. I can manage until then."
He recalled the disgusting hole in Mildy's gut and wondered how she could be so calm. It was surely a fatal wound, and Ares feared she might expire before they could get to the Grail. "Let's hurry back, then." He helped her up, and they started for the camp.
She tried to walk fast, and Ares could tell every step hurt her tremendously. Her face was contorted into an ugly grimace, and a river of blood gushed between her fingers. "Don't worry, Milady. The Grail will heal you right up."
He barely registered her tiny nod. "You did well, Ares."
"You really think so?"
"You're alive, right? But you have to learn to watch my back better. It'll save you some trouble supporting me."
His eyes teared up when he met her gaze. "I'm sorry, Milady."
"I don't need any 'sorrys.' Just help me, and try to do better next time."
Would there be a next time? As they headed down the stairs, Ares noticed her drooling blood. Death and suffering assailed his senses from every direction. He heard the screams of the wounded and smelled all the fluids of the body, and could not help thinking that Mildy too would die.
"What ha
ppened to Count Gorsin?" he asked, trying to divert his own mind.
Mildy smiled, to his shock. "Galahad," she breathed. Ares followed her gaze to the young knight walking towards them, the count's bloody helm falling from his hand as he spotted her.
#
"Lord, Mildy, are you all right?!"
Standing straighter despite her injury, she met Galahad's eyes and forced a grin. "I'm fine. See you later, alright?"
Instead, he began to follow her towards her tent, when for once she didn't want his company. "I saw you spitted on that sword. It can't be a light wound."
"It's not, but I'll be okay." If he went away, that is.
Ares tried to help. "I can't work on her if I'm distracted. Just wait a while, please."
"Why don't I help you instead? I must have more experience treating wounds, being a full knight and not just a squire."
He was probably right, but it wasn't mundane treatment Mildy needed now. "He'll be better off learning by doing it himself."
"Now's not the time to think of his training, when you're so wounded. You need the best help you can get."
Nothing they said would dissuade Galahad from following them to their tent. Though Mildy took this in her lover's heart to mean he still held feelings for her, her practical side crept towards panic. What if she died while he waited on her?
They removed her armor to examine her wound and Ares turned away, whispering, "Oh, God." He swallowed like to push vomit back down his throat, and Mildy knew it was bad.
She looked down, and saw a spiderweb of crimson rivulets streaming from the hole where her navel should have been. The blood was considerably darker than that from a flesh wound. "That doesn't look good."
Galahad nodded gravely. "I can smell your lunch."
"Just patch it up, then. I'm in God's hands now."
"I'm so sorry, Mildy."
She coughed up blood and said with a wink, "Now you've got proof why you shouldn't take a female warrior, huh?"
"Don't. No jokes."
Ares began to stitch the hole closed, and Mildy barely felt that pain. The agony of the wound itself obscured all other hurts, though she could feel a dull sting from the cuts on her arm and thigh. Her whole torso felt aflame on the inside. Shaking and sweating profusely, she looked at Galahad while he sat holding her hand.
"Aren't you supposed to be helping him?"
He did not let go. "He's doing fine."
"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't trust me to live. I promise you, I'll be fine." He had to get the hell out of here! She managed to smile, hopefully reassuringly. "What, you have to start fawning all over me now, just because I got impaled?"
She could tell from his sad eyes that he did not believe her. He wiped at the blood leaking from her mouth. "We'll make it through together. I'll help you fight this battle."
Support was nice and all, but it wouldn't make her insides whole. "I'm fine. You don't need to be here."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Ares gave her a helpless look and started to cry, tears rushing from his eyes. "Y-you can't survive this, Milady."
"You idiot!" Now that he'd said that, Galahad would be even more determined to stay with her until the bitter end. Ares seemed to realize he'd done something wrong and frowned apologetically. Soon, he finished stitching her wound.
Galahad lifted her head, gave her a sip from his waterskin, and squeezed her hand. "Hold on, Mildy. Hold on."
A tough request. Her guts were spilling their contents out inside her, and the iron taste in her mouth had become strong indeed. Ares looked at her and glanced meaningfully at her pack. She shook her head, and his expression grew more miserable.
"What, aren't you going to sleep?" she asked Galahad desperately.
"I couldn't sleep not knowing your fate." In other words, he fully expected her to die before he needed to rest.
"You're not giving me much hope with your supposed support."
"I'm sorry. I just can't help being realistic."
Anger narrowed Mildy's gaze. Realistic! And when he was slowly killing her through his ignorance, at that. "Please leave, Galahad. I don't want you at my side."
His eyes filled with hurt, and he sighed. "I know we didn't part too happily before. But I don't see how clinging to your anger and pushing me away now will help you one bit. Let me help you. One last time, I'd like to share your life."
How could he share what she felt now? Certainly, he didn't feel her pain, nor did he know how close she was to being able to relieve it. "Get the hell out, you pretentious knave."
To Mildy's great displeasure, Ares tried to play mediator. "Don't mind her, sir, she must be delirious." He must have understood what she was trying to do. Was he that unwilling to see Galahad angry at her? That wasn't his choice to make!
"I can tell," Galahad whispered. Or more likely, he wanted Ares to be right. "Look at how pale she is. She doesn't have long." Nice. She was right there listening to him.
The hours rolled by. Galahad sat there, urging her none too convincingly to "stay strong," while Ares asked silently every few minutes if he should get her the Grail. She denied him every time, and could tell he grew impatient to use it.
She kept telling herself she could hold on a little longer, just a little longer, and concentrated on trying to outlast Galahad's attention towards her. But he would neither leave nor fall asleep. "Don't you ever have to take a piss?" Mildy asked. Blood ran down her cheeks when she opened her mouth.
"Don't you?" he replied with a false lightheartedness, and wiped at her face.
"Go away. I hate you."
"Mildy, I'm sorry..."
"Ugh!" She shot Ares a withering glare as he reached for her pack, and he stopped in his tracks.
Her eyelids had begun to droop when Galahad tugged her hand. "You want to look at the stars, Mildy?"
She shook her head. Reminded of the world which still existed outside the tent of her torture, she got an idea. "There's a cousin of mine here among the knights. Gawain's his name, and even though we've never been friends, I'd like to tell him something before..."
He nodded. "Ares, go find Gawain."
Shit. Of course he would expect the squire to go before he did. "No, you go. Gawain wouldn't listen to him."
"Not even when you're... hurt?"
"Probably not. Just do this for me, please?"
"All right."
Galahad finally left, and Mildy waved at Ares to hurry. "Quick, get it! I sure hope Gawain isn't right outside."
"You're so smart, Milady," he said as he rummaged through her pack.
No, she was stupid for taking so long to think of it. Even wounded, she should have retained more of her wits. She waited a while, then grew uneasy at the amount of time Ares was taking. Wanting to see what he was doing, she propped herself up on an elbow. Searing pain filled her abdomen, and she almost passed out. Then she saw he had emptied the contents of her pack onto the floor, and now shifted through them with a desperate fervor.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her heart sinking.
"The Grail, Milady. It's gone."
Chapter 7
"So what do you want of me, Mildred?" Gawain asked as he stepped into the tent.
Mildy exhaled. She hadn't really thought about what to say, having only asked Galahad to fetch him to get an opportunity to use the Grail. "I just wanted to thank you for saving Ares, and twice at that."
"You're welcome. Though you'd have been better off if you actually trained him properly."
She saw Ares' features sag with embarrassment. "I trained him just fine. The battlefield's not the same."
"Yes, you're right. You're also a mess. I wouldn't have expected the melee champion at Tintagel to end up so poorly."
"Fortune didn't favor me today, that's all."
Gawain nodded. "No one's lucky all the time." Seconds passed. "You have anything else to say?"
She considered telling him they shared a mother. Though arrogant and harsh, he was at
least a brave and not entirely selfish warrior. But it was more than likely he'd disbelieve her, especially when she was wounded and potentially delirious.
"I'm looking forward to facing you again in tourney."
He smirked, but then asked, "What the hell are you doing still up? You should rest."
"Can't sleep with so many visitors," she said.
To her surprise, Gawain told Galahad, "Let's be away from here. She needs her rest, if she's to live to be humiliated by me."
Thankfully, Galahad deferred to the more experienced knight and reluctantly followed him outside. "Don't worry, Mildy," he said before he left. "I'll check back on you in the morning."
Alone with Ares, Mildy said, "You have to find the Grail. This pain's unbearable!"
"How long can you survive like this?" Ares asked, face white with fear.
"I don't know. I'm hurt real bad, but I guess I'll just have to try and hang on." She already felt extremely weak, and wondered if she had long at all.
"What about Irethine? Can't he heal your wound?"
Mildy smiled sadly. "I'm pretty sure he can't, for two reasons. For one thing, my mother told me unicorns can't cure mortal wounds. For another, he collapsed when he healed my side! He would probably drop dead trying to mend this."
"We have to find the Grail. But who could have stolen it?"
"It has to be someone who knew I had it, or somebody they told, and only three people would know that. Lance, my mother, and Laerin."
Ares nodded. "I doubt your mother would betray you, even if she is a little revenge-crazy."
She agreed, and really didn't think Lance would betray her either. "But why the hell would Laerin want to take the Grail?"
"Any number of reasons. Just because he's a faerie, doesn't mean he's not a person like everyone else. Maybe he wants the fame, or favor with some fey lord, or even just to help people in some way other than ours."
Mildy scowled. "I'd like to think it was the last, but even then, he sure picked the worst time to take it. I'm dying here."
