by Billy Wong
"It's not certain he stole it. He could have told someone about it, who came after us without him even knowing."
And now, Mildy could hardly see an end to their list of possible suspects. Anyone Laerin might have told their secret to, or anyone those people had told... "I guess we'll just have to ask and see if anyone was seen snooping around here."
Ares nodded and rose. "I promise I'll save you, Milady. Get some rest in the meantime, to save your energy."
As weak as she felt, she was a little afraid to fall asleep. "Please hurry."
He left and Mildy lay back on her bloody bed, the world growing hazy and dark around her. She closed her eyes to escape the reality of her failing vision and felt the beckoning of peaceful, painless slumber. It would be bad if Ares came back to find her dead. Still, she was incredibly tired, and let her mind fall away into the comfortable darkness.
#
"Milady! For God's sake, wake up Milady!"
She groaned and forced sticky eyes open, the desperate voice jolting her out of a dream in which she'd sung half-naked atop a tavern table. An odd one, but still more pleasant than reality. Her gut hurt even worse than before, and she could barely breath. Only now did she take in the fact she had survived the night, the sky brightening outside.
"Enough," she said as Ares continued to yell. "My ears are in no shape to be shouted into."
"Sorry. Glad to see you woke up." He began to dab at her cheek with an increasingly wet handkerchief, and she realized she was drooling blood again.
She tried to sit up, but remembered not to when her guts screamed in protest. "So did you learn anything?" she rasped.
"While we were all fighting, a medic saw a man enter a tent in this area, probably ours."
"A man? I'd like a better description than that."
"He said he couldn't see that well from afar. But he thought the man was big, and dressed in dark colors."
"Well, it wasn't Laerin." No one would have mistakenly thought the slender faerie large. "Do we know where he went?"
The answer surprised her. "Apparently, he went to join the battle. I guess he really wanted to keep up his act."
Now that was dedicated deception. Either that, or he really belonged here. "So did he join on our side, or theirs?"
"I'd assume ours, considering we were the aggressors."
"So have you asked about anyone who arrived late?"
"It was morning, so I decided to come back and check on you first. Hold on, Milady. I'll do it now." He kissed her hand and left again. And she laid there, suffering without end.
A seeming eternity later, she caught Galahad peeking inside as if to see whether she still slept. "You're late," she said.
"Thank God you're alive."
"Of course. You think I'd let a little scratch like this keep me down?"
Galahad laughed and touched her face, but quickly took his hand away. "You're so cold."
"I'm not cold cold. I'd be dead if I was."
"I mean, you're far too cold to be healthy. But it's amazing you lived through the night. Maybe that's proof God's smiling on you." She did not reply. "Where's Ares?"
"He's out looking for something to help me," she answered truthfully.
His eyes were sullen and hopeless. "What could that be?"
She didn't think he expected a real answer. "I'm in so much pain."
With frightful intensity in his stare, he growled, "Don't you dare die on me."
Mildy smiled, then whispered, "You do still like me."
"If I thought it could keep you alive, I'd swear to marry you if you live. Please don't die."
"So you'll marry me, then?"
"What?"
"I mean, because I am going to live."
Galahad kissed her forehead. "You're such a brave dead warrioress."
Ares ran into the tent, his enthusiastic voice preceding him inside. "Milady, I-" He saw Galahad and stopped.
"What are you so happy about?" the knight asked disapprovingly.
Mildy needed him to go away now. "Please leave, there's something I have to discuss alone with my squire."
"All right." He stepped out.
That had been too easy. "You think he's outside listening to us?" she asked Ares in a whisper.
"He shouldn't be able to hear, if we talk softly enough."
And he'd probably get even more suspicious, but they didn't have much of a choice. She kept her voice as low as she could. "You seemed excited, so what did you find?"
He hesitated, seeming not so much reluctant to tell her as unsure how to say it. "The man who stole it is still here."
"Good."
"And dead."
She didn't really care. "And did you get the Grail from his corpse?"
"No, it wasn't on him. But I think you better get ready for a real shock." Ares paused. "It was Ironheart."
Mildy's jaw dropped. "But he's dead—was dead!"
"He's dead now, too. But he was apparently alive for some time between when you last killed him and now. You killed him this time, too."
"Huh?"
"He's the one who stabbed you. Who you beheaded."
"So what you're saying he revived, followed me here, took the Grail, tried to kill me, and ending up dying. So where did the Grail go?"
Ares frowned. "Either he must have hid it somewhere, or someone took it from his corpse."
Mildy found herself wishing for the former. If somebody had taken it, wouldn't they likely realize it to be the Grail? In which case, she'd already failed to keep its secret. "Ironheart would've kept it with him," she said unhappily, "so he could use it if he got hurt."
"Not that it saved him, huh Milady?"
"Will he come back to life again?" she wondered, a shudder running down her spine.
"I made sure he won't. I told them he had been possessed, and they burned his body. He's only a pile of ashes now."
Pride for her squire's quick thinking warmed her heart, but made her feel no stronger. "We'll have to try and find out who looted his body. Hopefully, it was just some man-at-arms who stuffed the cup in his pack thinking it pretty, without giving it a close examination."
"But who would pay attention to who was looting that particular corpse?"
"I doubt anyone would have been specifically watching Ironheart. But if whoever looted Ironheart discussed it with his buddies, or somebody remembers seeing him do it..."
"Some of the soldiers are already leaving. We have to hurry up if we want to catch this thief."
"In other words, I've got to come lend a hand."
"What are you talking about? You're in no condition to help do anything."
"Yes I am," she insisted, as she tried very slowly to sit up. Though the pain blurred her sight and nearly made her faint, she was able to do it with a gasp. Then, she raised herself into a crouch. "One step away from standing."
"Please stop, Milady! If you exert yourself like this, you might not even live to use the Grail."
She wiped at the blood leaking from her mouth and sighed. "I'm running out of time, Ares. The soldiers are starting to leave, and if they take the Grail with them, I'm dead. I'm already bleeding out inside, how much worse can moving around a bit make it? I can stand, and I refuse to be helpless."
He looked down, his eyes coming to rest on the tent floor soaked with blood that had poured from her belly. Then he shifted his moist eyes to her face; apparently, meeting her pained gaze was easier than facing the severity of her injury. "You're so strong, Milady. I wish I could be just like you."
"I'll teach you." Though Mildy wasn't sure how she'd done it, she was on her feet now, bent over her wound while she tried to control her anguished trembling. "Let's go find that chalice." She began an excruciating limp towards the tent flap, and Ares went to her side to lend her support. She shrugged him off and shot him a disapproving look. "Let me be. What good would it do our search, if you occupy yourself with me?"
#
Ares left Mildy to investigate the southern
half of camp, watching worriedly as she limped to question the soldiers there. Though it amazed him how well she held up, he was still terrified for her life. She'd taken a sword right through her belly! He had to hurry and get her the healing she needed. Stopping by every tent in his way, he described Ironheart and asked if anyone remembered who had looted his corpse. But his disappointment grew with each dead end, and despair closed in.
Finally, he bumped into a robust young knight he did not know, and asked him about Ironheart. To his surprise, the knight said, "Yes, I think I noticed him. He was the one who mortally wounded the alleged Lady Pendragon, wasn't he?"
Ares hated the man's use of the word "mortally," but replied, "Yeah, him. You see anyone loot his corpse?"
"I did, and thought it rather unjust that another man should claim his gear when he had fallen to Lady Mildred. His arms were hers by right, and should be given to her kin."
While displeased by the knight's treatment of Mildy as a dead woman, Ares liked his overall attitude towards her. "She's not hurt as bad as you heard. She's going to be fine, she's even up and about now. I'm just helping her out, to get back her rightful spoils. So what are you called, sir?"
"Percival. And I'd be glad to help you find what you need."
"No thanks. Just tell me who it was who took his things."
"I don't know him by name, but he had red hair, and I believe is a soldier under Sir Gawain's command. He took the fallen knight's sword and pack, but did not strip his armor."
Ares had known that already, having seen the armor still on Ironheart's body until removed for his cremation. "Thank you."
"Good luck, whatever you're doing."
Ares made his way to where Gawain's retinue was camped, and began looking around for redheaded soldiers. Of course, there would probably be more than one—or not. He saw many blonds around here; relatives of Gawain's? Noticing that he had moved close to the area Mildy was checking out, he looked around and spotted her talking with Galahad on the encampment's fringe.
"Of course I'm feeling better," she was saying, trying to explain why she was out here with the wound she bore.
"You hide it well," Galahad said; and she did, standing fairly steadily with an innocent smile on her face. "But I can see the agony in your eyes. And you're extremely pale."
"Do I really look that bad?" Her face blanched further, and Ares could tell she didn't want to admit it.
He saved her, taking her by the hand and improvising, "Milady, you have to get back to bed. I know you're worried, but you're in no condition to exert yourself."
"Worried about what?" Galahad asked.
"She's got a friend in Gawain's camp who's hurt, and probably wants to see him."
Catching on, Mildy whined, "But I really want to see him! I can't rest if I don't know he's okay."
Galahad frowned. "If you're looking for someone in Gawain's camp, why were you wandering around Haustun's?"
"She must have gotten confused," Ares replied hastily, and dragged Mildy away.
"You're walking too fast, my guts are ripping apart!"
He forced his feet to slow and allowed her a grimacing breather. "Just getting you away from trouble."
"I assume you found him?"
"Almost. He's apparently a redheaded soldier, in Gawain's camp of course."
Mildy nodded. "This better be it. I can't take much more." At his worried look, she added, "Of searching, I meant."
They went to comb Gawain's camp together, and could not find any redheads. But peeking into one empty tent, Mildy said, "Hey, isn't that Ironheart's pack?"
Ares couldn't tell. Why would he remember what a particular person's pack looked like? They were all just big lumps of brown leather. "Are you sure? How can you tell?"
She answered with a thin smile. "Blood sprayed onto the side of Ironheart's pack when his sword came out of me, and there's blood on the side of this pack."
Wouldn't lots of packs have blood on them after a battle? But there was nobody around, and nothing to lose by checking it out. So instead of arguing the credibility of Mildy's evidence, Ares said, "Hurry up, then."
"You hurry. I'll keep watch for anyone coming back."
And what would they do if somebody did? There was no back way out of the tent. He sifted through the contents of the pack as fast as he could, and could hardly believe Mildy had been right when he pulled the chalice from deep inside it. "Got it!"
"I told you so, didn't I?" Mildy said with a proud grin, seeming to forget her pain. Her tone changed. "Uh oh. Redhead's back."
"What should we do? Can we make it out the front in time?"
"No," she said, no uncertainty in her voice. "We've got about twenty seconds before we're caught thieving."
They wouldn't be executed or probably even imprisoned, especially Baroness Mildred for all her title meant, but Ares might very well get whipped. At the risk of more whipping if he got caught, he drew his sword and cut a hole through the back of the tent. Now there was a rear door. "Come on, Milady."
She stared. "Nice way to cover our tracks." But she came, and they were outside. "Hide the damn Grail, stupid!" More softly, "Sorry, Grail."
Ares looked around, sighed with relief that nobody seemed to have spotted them, and tucked the holy cup into his pants. It was the best place for now. "You doing all right, Milady?"
"I'm walking around with my shredded guts bouncing around inside me. I'm okay."
He laughed. She wasn't really okay, but soon would be. "We did it, thank God. You're going to be fine."
Mildy nodded. "As long as that soldier didn't know he had the Grail. But I doubted he even opened the pack." She paused. "I wonder what he'll think of that slit in his tent?"
"Don't think about it. Let's just get you healed up."
They returned to their tent, where Mildy gulped down her dose of grail water. She sighed and shuddered with pleasure, and Ares could almost feel the cool relief flooding her insides. "That feels so good."
Ares smiled. "Of course it does. It's the touch of God's grace."
She flexed her abdominal muscles and returned his smile. "Everything seems to be whole again."
He heard footsteps outside, and stepped hastily in front of Mildy. Behind him, he heard her scrambling to hide the Holy Grail. Galahad walked into the tent. "How are you, Mildy?"
Luckily, she'd just finished concealing the Grail in her pack and now lay curled up around her wound, taking quick, shallow breaths. "I'm fine," she said in a voice thick with faux pain.
"You do look a little better." He must have seen the color that had returned to her face.
"I told you I'd live."
Galahad must have believed her, for his concern seemed to diminish. "I'm glad you're recovering." He patted her shoulder and left, not fawning over her as before.
Mildy groaned. "I was hoping he'd stay as interested in me after I got better."
"At least you are better," Ares replied.
She sat up, touching her stomach where she'd been stabbed. "Thanks for everything. You handled yourself rather well in that mess."
"You really think so?" He laughed. "It was nothing. I am your squire, so I learned from the best." And they hugged, glad for one another's strength.
#
Nimue cursed as the raven told her of her pawn's destruction. Damn him! Now he would never find the Grail for her, even after all she'd put up with from the revenge-crazed lunatic. Their deal had been that he would find her the Holy Grail, which she knew to be hidden in some fey refuge or another. In return, she would give him the magical aid he needed to find and slaughter the faeries he hated.
Now, her righteous quest had been severely compromised by the false princess. How could fortune treat Nimue so poorly, when her cause was so just? She needed the Grail to save her son's life, and would never give up no matter how many pawns it took. Moreover, she would feel no regret for destroying whoever stood in her way. Ironheart's death had convinced her of the continuing threat Mildred Pendragon posed
to her plans, and now she would call in the favor she needed to end that threat.
#
"Horrible gut wound and you're on your feet in a week. It's truly a miracle, Mildy," Galahad said while they prepared to depart Count Gorsin's former estate.
"I was walking around the next day," she reminded him. "More proof I really am Arthur's daughter." Not that it made her as proud as it used to, but she had decided there was no real reason to change her public persona.
"Arthur isn't known for having a superhuman constitution."
Mildy frowned, trying to think of a good response. "No, but it shows I'm something special."
"Probably the kid of some ogre that raped her mother," Gawain muttered nearby, loudly enough for her to hear. She cringed, for it was far too close to the truth.
If Galahad heard the comment, he ignored it. "Are you still going home?"
"Are you still hunting for the elusive Grail?"
"We both have our unattainable dreams. Let's just let them be, will you?"
But she'd already accepted she would never be recognized as a princess, and knew quite certainly that Galahad's search for the Holy Grail would be in vain. It was in her pack! "You won't find it. It's not out there to be found."
"Whatever you say. You have your convictions, and I my faith." She looked at her feet, and he tried to console her. "I'm not going after it right away. First, I have a smaller goal in mind."
"And what is that?"
"I've been talking to the people here, and apparently there's a group of bandits menacing the northwest road. I've taken it upon myself to get rid of these ruffians."
"That sounds like a worthy task."
"You want to come?"
Mildy smiled. "Why not? Home can wait."
He shook his head, and she wondered for a moment if he found her cute—or pathetic. Hoping it was the former, she went to pick up Ares.
#
"So where are these bandits supposed to be again?" Ares asked wearily. He and the knights had wandered the woods for days, and he grown tired of chasing shadows.
"They should be around here somewhere," Galahad assured him. "Just keep looking and either we find them, or they us."
"And then we'll crush them," Mildy said.
This was one of those moments when Ares liked his friend less than he normally did. Why would she be so confident of victory over these bandits, when their strength aside she and Galahad were still only two knights? Then again, Mildy's confidence usually proved well informed. Perhaps Ares was just being a silly coward again.
