"Your light is heartening but makes you an easy target," he said urgently. I did not believe the crows army would injure me purposely, but accidental injuries could easily occur, so I obeyed his wishes and meant to remain behind the merlon.
Several crow soldiers mounted the walls and Nefen was off, leaving me behind to engage them. All around us my honor guard ran, hauling the injured off the wall to Fiona's hospital. Wyntan sent up some of his company to replace the fallen. I turned my attention back to the field below us. Reaching out my hand, I pushed outward with my Goddess-given faculties, sending a wave of force out at the enemy, blowing a group of around ten back from the walls. Stepping out from behind the merlon, I turned this force on one of the ladders. Four crow soldiers and the ladder they were climbing flew backwards nearly thirty feet.
I began to feel depleted. The ground around us gave up more energy to me, though it killed the growing things within the ground, and I built it up inside me to a level that caused my ears to ring. Still I pulled up more, preparing to release a catastrophic blow at Cur and his soldiers.
Sharp, biting pain pierced my right shoulder, its brutal impact spun me around to face into the courtyard of the walled village. A black arrow protruding from my shoulder, I fought to hold in all the energy I had amassed, to keep from blasting my own soldiers. Shaking with the effort, feeling my hair crackling beneath my helm, I met Selas' eyes as he began running toward me across the courtyard.
The energy exploded within me, knocking me backwards off the wall and into the dark mass of black painted soldiers. As I fell soldiers on the ladders reached out to catch me, slowing my fall. Those on the ground softened my impact.
I was grabbed and wrestled to the ground, grinding the shaft of the arrow inside me. Cur was shouting "Hold her! Hold her!" and I heard it barreling toward me. With a shriek of desperation, I released what was left of the energy and blasted my captors off of me. I leaped to my feet and ran back toward the village walls. Our archers concentrated their arrows around me to fend off those trying to recapture me. There was only one way back into the village. Up.
I couldn't fly but I knew I could jump. I pulled up more energy again and leapt with all my might and the building energy inside me for the top of the wall. Air rushed past me and I sprang up into the night, far higher than a mortal should be able to do. My soldiers reached out to me, grabbing my outstretched arms as I slammed into the wall just below them, shoving the arrow further into my flesh. They dragged me up and over the wall to safety, breaking off the shaft of the arrow in the process.
I closed my eyes and shuddered, laying on the pavers with pain spreading down my arm and along my chest. Selas' presence and anger was strong, he was coming toward me to give me a harangue that I was sure would melt my hair from my head. "Now is the time to protect me," I managed to tell Nefen as he bent over me to inspect my wound, loosening my armor.
"I think I'll hand you over this time," he said, his face grim with alarm as he saw the blood spreading beneath me. Three of my honor guard hoisted me up and carried me off the grey stone walls. Selas marched behind them, his silence blistering. I was carefully placed on a cot in the main room of Fiona's makeshift hospital and quickly surrounded by Fiona and her helpers. Selas pushed through the crowd to glare at me.
"We'll speak later," he threatened, his eyes stormy, then strode back out into the green. The inn door banged shut behind him. I sighed, half relieved at the temporary reprieve and the rest of me certainly not looking forward to the end of that reprieve.
I was stripped of my armor and my dark green tunic was cut away from the wound. My arm and chest were covered with blood. Fiona examined the wound with adept, hard fingers. I groaned in pain. Though I knew she didn't wish to hurt me with her examination, there was no way to avoid it. She shook her head, her mouth thin.
"It's buried in there and the shaft is gone. We're going to have to cut it out." She turned, giving brisk commands to her helpers. They set up with boiling water, herbal concoctions, bandages, a small tongs, and two knives, one bent slightly at the end to assist with digging the arrowhead out, the other heated red hot to cauterize the wound if needed. I began to shake, staring at the knives. One of the helpers turned my head firmly away with her hands.
The pain was bad enough that I couldn't concentrate. I worked to remove myself, to dissociate from the physical world to the ethereal, where maybe I could get above the pain and help Fiona by pushing the arrowhead out of my own body. My efforts couldn't pull together before the bent knife was thrust into my shoulder. I screamed in agony and mercifully lost consciousness.
I awoke as I was being tightly bandaged, my arm immobilized against my body. A middle aged woman with an austere face and kind expression held out a cup of medicine. Another helper gently lifted me into a sitting position. Tamping down the whimpers rising in my throat at the stunning ache caused by the movement, I obediently swallowed the potion. The revolting taste caused me to gag against my will. The second helper lay me gently back down.
Two of my honor guard, wearing the red sashes Selas had insisted upon to identify their special duties and rank, lifted the head and foot of the cot and hauled me up the inn stairs. They helped me climb gingerly into a bed in a small, quiet room above the inn kitchen. "My armor," I breathed, then whatever was in the potion caught up to me and I fell into sleep.
When I awoke, I knew that several hours had passed. I had been stripped of my bloody clothes and bathed, and bundled into a nightgown with one shoulder cut off to allow access to the injury. My cuirass lay on my legs, the damage done to it by the arrow having repaired itself. Gronwon was dozing in a chair near the foot of my bed. Outside my room I could hear the sounds of battle continuing.
I sat up. Cautiously I moved my shoulder to the slightest degree, and found the pain intense but bearable. As I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, my shining piece of armor fell to the floor with a clatter.
Gronwon sat up with a start. Seeing all was well, he put his hand on his chest and took several deep breaths.
"Lay down, Lady Ada," he said. "You must rest and let the armor do its job!" He urged me gently with his hands back onto the bed and placed the cuirass back on my legs.
"What job?" I asked, puzzled. He poured me a cup of water from a jug on the bedside table. I gave him a grateful, wavering smile and sipped at it, easing the dryness of my throat.
"The armor will help you heal, as long as it stays in contact with you. So rest and be still for the night, and hopefully in the morning you will feel much better, and have less pain."
I finished the water, thoughtfully observing the elder priest. Gronwon had seated himself at my side on the bed. He looked careworn and quite tired, his long white hair hanging limply across his chest.
"If I promise to stay here and rest, will you find yourself a bed and do the same?" I asked, worried about him.
He smiled at me. "If you so wish it, Lady," he said.
"I do. But first I must speak with the General," I said. "After that I promise to rest and be the essence of peacefulness. If you could have one of the honor guard go and tell Selas I'm awake, then you must go and rest."
"He asked us to do that, as well," Gronwon said. "Young Ethan is to fetch him the moment you stir. I'll go tell the boy you are awake. Ethan has set up a cot outside your door, so I recommend you order him to sleep as well. I do not think he will, otherwise. He takes his duties very seriously, he's a fine boy. Far too young for this business, but who could dissuade him?"
Selas stomped into my room soon after Gronwon left. He stood scowling at me with his arms crossed for long moments.
"You may as well get it over with," I said tiredly. "No one here will be shocked to hear you shouting."
"You blasted idiot!" he spat. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Not only standing on the walls – bad enough - but standing in the open, then leaping like a muttonhead out into the arms of the enemy!"
"I didn't leap out," I protested. "I was thrown by the ener
gy I was holding-"
"That you should have released!"
"It would have struck our people!"
"So let it! Better a few foot soldiers than the only hand that can slay Iceblade! Use your brain!" He glared at me, his face ruddy with anger, teeth clenched so tightly I could nearly hear them cracking.
"I got back within the walls."
"And made your injury much worse than it had been. If you'd lost any more blood you could have died there on the walls. When are you going to cultivate some common horse-sense?"
"I'm sorry, Father," I muttered, caustically, stung, and instantly regretted my words and tone.
He jerked his whole body back. "I am not your father," he said harshly. "Your sarcasm reeks. You promised me once to consult with me before risking your life like a fool again. Live up to your own promise."
"I am sorry that I was so thoughtless, Selas," I said, hanging my head. "And sorry if my foolish mouth hurt your feelings."
He glared heavily at me, without speaking. I could feel the weight of it on my head.
My voice soft with sorrow, I attempted to set things right. "These last months you have been the only father I've known or likely ever will. And like a good daughter I will try harder to respect your knowledge, and listen better to what you say. All right?" I looked up, saw something unreadable and fleeting in his expression before his scowl returned. Something waited within him, wanting to be said, but he swallowed and kept it back.
"You find some wisdom within you," he said at last. "You protect yourself before anyone, until Iceblade lays slain at your feet. Understood?"
"I will try," I said. "But I don't think I could have released that energy into a group of my own people."
He replied in a tone rather gentle for him. "Then turn it, and use it in some other fashion. When you are in a battle, you can't waste time thinking only along one line, you have to be aware of any possibility."
I nodded. "I see that. Before I build up energy like that again, I will have two uses ready for it, so I don't panic and end up risking myself or anyone else needlessly."
"Better to have three uses, or four. Learn from Iceblade's mistake at Remanil. He planned his conquest one way, but was able to triumph even when that plan blew up in his face."
I recoiled from the thought of learning anything from what Iceblade had done. Selas saw my distaste.
"No, girl. Always learn anything you can from your enemy. In the end it will make you stronger and smarter than him."
Reluctantly I nodded, seeing the wisdom of that. "How's the battle going?" I asked, changing the subject away from Iceblade with no regard for subtlety.
He sighed, half under his breath and with a small measure of grim amusement, and gave me his report. "Like a siege. They will keep us busy as well as they can until reinforcements arrive, but we have the entire advantage as long as our supplies hold out. Wyclif found a tunnel into the city coming off the river along the city's northern edge, but it is blocked well enough by three iron portcullises. I posted Daltorn and company down there just to be sure. I have no worries at this point, aside from the foolhardiness of the Good Queen's Chosen."
"Anything I can do?"
"Sleep. Heal. And remember what I've said tonight. Now go to bed." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. I lay down to sleep, and drifted off almost immediately, I was so exhausted.
Feeling intensely vulnerable, I found myself, my spirit, once again in Iceblade's sleeping presence. Looking down I saw I wore the one-shouldered nightgown, the bandage white against my too pale skin. With an effort, I summoned up the shaped cuirass of my armor to cover me. Though the armor was no more real or tangible than I myself was in this form, it lent me a sense of protection and covered the evidence of my wound.
I sat down in the chair at his campaign desk and waited, knowing my presence would awaken him. He slept with an innocence he lacked in waking, always sprawled out like a child hogging a big bed. While he slept I could gaze at him unseen and uninterrupted. My eyes lingered on his face, lean and pale, his high cheekbones and patrician nose, refined slender mouth, then fell to his hand hanging off the edge of the bed. His fingers were long, spare and fine; though his hands were not as broad as Daltorn's warrior hands, they were easily capable of dexterously wielding a weapon. Or ardently caressing the bared skin of his lover, I thought unwillingly, shivering with a rush of heat and cold. It would not be me, I reminded myself. It would never be me.
He stretched and sat up. Without looking he knew I was there and began to laugh. Iceblade stood, drawing on a black robe embroidered with silver, staring at me without speaking, taking in my garb.
"Are you so frightened of me, or rather of yourself, that you must wear armor even in spirit form?" he asked at length, mocking, amused.
"There's nothing you can do to me in this form," I said defiantly, tilting my chin up.
"Is that so?" He came forward, settling into a semi-squat, supporting himself with his hands on the chair on either side of my legs. I stifled a gasp and leaned away from him, holding my hands stiffly on my lap, gripping my hands tightly to keep them from reaching for him. He chuckled. "Nothing at all?" Leaning toward me, he nuzzled his face against mine, passing slightly through me. I felt my desire rise and knew his did as well.
"Please," I whispered, shaken. He pushed himself back away from me with a soft groan, pulling himself up to sit on his bed.
"I urgently await your physical presence," he rasped. "When your pleading will be of a different and sweeter nature." I stood with agitation and paced around the tent. "I told you, you can't stay away," he added, self-satisfied.
"I wouldn't have come if I wasn't weakened," I snapped without thinking, and regretted it. He rose immediately, coming to stand behind me, stopping my pacing without touching me. We stood unnaturally still, me unwilling to move backward and risk touching him and unable to move forward away from him, and him using that to keep me in one place.
"Are you injured?" he demanded. "Remove that armor."
I spared him a sardonic glance over one shoulder.
"Perhaps I can remove it for you," he said grimly. He walked around to the front of me and lifted his hands, reaching for the armor as if it were tangible. I lurched back away from him with my hand up in warding. His expression resolute and forbidding, he reached for me again, following me every step I backed away.
"Leave me be!" I ordered sharply. He backed me up against his bed and reached for the armor, his face a mask of fierce concentration. As his fingers brushed the cuirass, I felt a vibration come from the armor. Closing his eyes, he swept his fingers over the armor a second time, and to my horror, it fell away at his touch.
My breath came in panicked pants. His eyes flew open, widened in triumph, then narrowed as his gaze fell on the bandage. Another angry movement of his hands, and the bandage fell away. The arrow wound showed livid against my winter-pale flesh, stitched and raw.
"Who did that to you?" he asked, enraged, his face deadly. "Who dared harm you, my bride? Tell me who did this and I will have him destroyed."
"I do not know," I answered honestly. I met his eyes, holding his gaze with my own. "The arrow was yours at the root of it, though."
He flinched, paled, stepping back. Gathering himself, he turned his anger on me. "You would not bear this wound if you just came to me as I asked! If you were not being kept from me by your 'army'!" The last word was accented with a curled lip. His voice gentled, became persuasive. "Why do you draw this out so foolishly?" His hand lifted tenderly to touch the wound. As he traced it with his fingers, some of the pain eased, and I saw by his stiffening expression he had taken it into himself. I pulled away, unwilling to let him share my pain, unable to allow his touch without yearning to move closer. "Come to me, beloved, and I will see that you bear no pain alone ever again," he whispered. "You've been alone all your life, as I have been. Come to me and belong to me, and I will belong to you."
"I cannot," I murmured rawly, f
eeling my loneliness and my longing for him like the spilling of my own blood.
"Give in to what you feel," he said. "Give in to the hunger inside you. Admit you feel what I do, and stop fighting me!"
"I don't," I forced out, my voice tight and shaking. "I don't love you."
His eyes flashed, shards of anger and pain. "If you don't, then who would you love? There is no one for you the way I am."
"Perhaps there is," I lied, trying to use words to shove him away even as he moved closer.
"The blonde haired nobleman?" he sneered. "You don't love him. You might wish you did, but you can't. You know that's true. He's just not exciting enough for you, is he?" He laughed out loud when he saw the truth of his words echoed in the dismay on my face. I recoiled, pulling away, the tent and my adversary fading from my sight.
When I awoke, dawn was casting its early light into the grey sky outside my small round window. I sat up carefully and found the pain in my shoulder had lessened to a hard discomfort. Touching my shoulder delicately, I wondered how much of my pain my enemy was carrying today.
I set my armor aside and stood up. Sleeping heavily in the cot outside my door was Ethan, oblivious to the noises of battle beyond the inn's walls. He awoke quickly when I shook his foot, holding my nightgown up around my neck.
"Lady! You're awake! How long have you... Have I been sleeping while you were up?" He jumped to his feet, his eyes still bleary, wobbling a bit and righting himself sternly.
"I just woke up," I reassured him, smothering a grin. "Could you find where ever my pack has ended up, so I can get dressed?"
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