by Lisa Shea
The sobs came slowly at first, but when she gave in and let them take her, they racked her body. All of the feelings she’d be avoiding, hiding from, these past days came washing over her. These men that had died around her weren’t just fellow soldiers; they had been her best friends. Out of everyone that had served with her, these men had insisted, had demanded, that they accompany her on this trip. They were the ones she had spent long evenings with in the tavern, playing games and sharing stories. They’d watched over each other on long patrols, guarded each other’s backs when bandits ambushed them on the trail. They had been through everything together, and she’d thought their days as a band would stretch into a long history. She never even imagined that they’d be gone, all at once, without a chance to say goodbye.
* * *
From the dark shadow of the woods, Stephen watched quietly as Lucia doubled over crying, sobbing as if her heart would break. He desperately wanted to go to her, to console her, to let her know her pain would ease with time. He wanted to reassure her that, with patience, the guilt and hurt would settle eventually into distant memory.
He harshly silenced that voice. He sternly reminded himself that he was engaged, bound to Anna. He had to keep Lucia at arm’s length.
Stephen shook his head as he swept his eyes across the clearing. He had allowed himself to be drawn in by her. He wondered how much she remembered of their long discussions through the nights while she was half-delirious with fever. She had poured out her pain and the struggles of her life. During those talks he had been continually impressed with her strength of character, with her sense of honor. Even now, when most women would be curled up in bed, she had spent the day striving to rebuild her weakened body and to pay homage to those she had lost.
Stephen’s hand tightened reflexively on the hilt of his sword. It did not matter how noble Lucia’s character was. He could not allow himself the luxury of caring for her. Anna had never questioned all of the time he had spent this past week tending to the newcomer. She deserved a husband worthy of that trust.
Yes, he was here now. It was his duty, after being alerted by Marcus that Lucia had gone out alone, to make sure she got back safely. He would shield her from attack should it be necessary. But as to the rest, she was on her own. It had to be this way.
He took a deep breath and turned away from her, watching the woods with an alert eye.
* * *
Lucia was overwhelmed with darkness; her body-shaking sobs shook loose all sense of time. The shadows drifted, lengthened, and still she wept, unable to find an end to her sorrows. Finally, out of sheer exhaustion her shoulders slumped and her breath raggedly slowed to normal. She was left only with a deep ache that seemed to be part of her very bones.
Lucia knelt motionless, drained, unable to think or move. More time eased past in swirling drifts of snow. At last she dried her eyes and put her forehead down to the hilt of her sword. She vowed revenge for the four who had fallen here, so dear to her heart. Then she kissed the pommel and sheathed the sword.
She saw a glint to one side of the cairn, and retrieved a bronze bracer, somehow separate from the pile. It seemed like an omen to her, and she put it carefully into an inner pocket.
She knew the bracer well, and breathed a deep sigh. It belonged to Vic, the youngest member of their band. He had never complained, never hesitated once on the difficult journey. Even when the Grays had taken him hostage, even when the weaselly one had tortured him, Vic’s only thought had been for the safety of the group. And then …
Her eyes went to the pile of rocks, to all that remained of her loyal friends. They had given their lives. It was her duty to protect them from harm, and she was the cause of their deaths! Lucia kicked angrily at a Gray’s sword which lay to her left. It was her fault. Frustrated, she turned and strode back to Troy.
Mounting the horse, she urged him into a gallop and headed back the way she came. Anger and rage swept through her. Anger at those who had attacked her homeland and killed innocent people who were simply trying to escape. Anger at the fiend who had tortured Vic for the sheer delight of it. Anger at the complacent keep dwellers who couldn’t see the threat even when it was upon their doorstep.
Black thoughts raced wildly through her head, thundering in time to her horse’s heavy footfalls. Who was she to bear this responsibility? To have people die to protect her life? Just the second child of a minor lord! If she hadn’t been there, no one would have died. She could ride west, to the sea, and escape on a boat across the ocean. She had heard wonderful lands were said to exist beyond the waters.
She didn’t even have to go that far. Bandits lived for years in the deep woods, after all. It simply took a bow, a knife, and an understanding of the woodland creatures. She possessed all three. Perhaps she could simply disappear into the forest somewhere.
She reined in Troy, exhaustion settling over her. Disappear? To where? What would she do without her friends and townsfolk? Who would help her brother when he needed someone to talk to? Who would tell Marcie her brother died honorably? Who would make sure her father had not died in vain?
She slowed to a walk. A light seemed to kindle within her, slowly at first, and then with growing strength. She was warmed by the companionship echoing from the guards she had served with over the long years. She was bolstered by the feeling of standing up for what was right and encouraging others to do the same.
She took in a deep breath. There would be deaths, whether or not she was around. Stephen’s tragic loss proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt. She could only do her best to minimize the losses. She and her friends had sworn to protect their people, even if it meant their own deaths. The sacrifice was not made unknowingly, nor in vain.
A sobering peace washed over her, taking its place alongside the sorrow. She let it fill her mind.
A small clearing opened up to the left, a quiet stream trickling along its far side. She knew the keep’s walls were perhaps five minutes ahead. This was a safe enough place to stop and rest for a while.
She climbed down carefully from Troy’s back, hobbling him to graze and drink from the nearby stream while she sat on the banks. This part of the forest was less thickly grown; most of the snow had melted except a few patches on some rocks in the flowing water.
She lay her sword at her side. Surely this area would be safe from attack, but she would take no chances. Then she opened the pouch at her hip, removing the bread. She leant up against a sturdy willow, gazing over at her horse as she nibbled on the edges of the meal.
“Something worth having is worth fighting for,” she mused out loud. Troy glanced up, disinterested, then continued nibbling on some clover. She found it helped putting breath behind her thoughts, if only to the brown-eyed steed who had loyally carried her so far.
“I was raised to value my people beyond all else. If valiant soldiers lose their lives while protecting them, it is my duty and honor to accept that. Now it is my responsibility to gather a force to join with Michael, to give our people hope.”
She sighed, the heavy burdens exhausting her. Her voice dropped down low. “Sometimes I wish I was a quiet villager. So many people depend on me; rely on my strength.”
She lapsed back into silence for a while. A magpie jabbered in a nearby tree, then fell silent. Lucia needed something to raise her flagging spirits; she thought of a song she and her brother used to sing to pass the time on long rides. Hesitantly, she took up the tune herself.
“Gather, camp-mates, list my tale -
Swords of honor did prevail
‘gainst foes en masse with weapons steeled
Our fighters’ fates were all but sealed.
If not for faithful Keilder.
Spies by night, a sneak attack
betrayed our captains from the back
The soldiers fell and children, too,
evil winds came blowing through.
All turned to faithful Keilder.
A rousing cry – in arms he came
The chant of many raised his name
Spirits mustered, banners flew.
Each passing day the forces grew
Drawn by faithful Keilder.
Lucia’s voice faded away into silence. The stirring ballad brought to life her land’s history and the struggles her ancestors went through to secure their homeland. The thought that she was exiled from the keep she loved racked her with pain.
She searched her memory for a better tune; after a few minutes one came to mind. It was an older tune, from before her family settled in the rocky crags over the northern forests. This was one she and her brother had hummed while doing the Welcoming Dance in one of the back rooms at the keep. She stood, and slowly did the steps in time with her words.
Welcome the shimmering sun.
Welcome the glistening moon.
Rain cascades from the ebony sky
Water nurtures the suckling ground
Life blossoms.
The gentle rhythms and long, drawn-out phrases relaxed her almost immediately. Questions fled her mind - the dance was all. She closed her eyes and stretched out her arms.
Ah - she could hear her brother’s deep baritone voice filling in the harmony. A step to the right, two quick to the left, a gentle spin and a low dip. She smiled at the memory of practicing that move with her brother by firelight. She prayed fervently that he was safe.
Welcome the glittering stars
Scattered by a generous goddess
Their steady light always pointing,
A beacon always trusted,
Guiding all to safe harbor.
The old dances were fluid - nothing like the modern, formal dances many of the neighboring areas were adopting. Smooth, gentle, Lucia forgot time and place - suddenly nothing else was important. She was dancing, and the two voices twined through the crisp winter air. She spun in abandon.
Lucia’s mind crystallized as she became one with the trickling water, the crisp breeze, the slick-winged magpie in the willow. She could hear the recorder join in, as Marcie had often done on those wintry days when they were trapped inside by the snow.
Welcome the steady waves of the sea
The salty bringer of life
The never-ending tides,
Holder of secrets, power beyond reckoning,
ever present … ever present …
Lucia spun about in bliss, a perfect emptiness which at the moment felt full to bursting.
A cracking noise sounded sharply in the silence. She snapped back to the real world and her dangerous situation. It was like coming fully awake from a powerful dream.
Where was her sword?
She shook her head, reorienting herself in this strange forest. Visions of her brother and friend evaporated, replaced by a trickling stream and swaying willow branches.
Where had the sound come from?
Standing by the bubbling water, patting Troy on the head, was Stephen. He watched her with a tender smile on his lips. After a moment he stepped deliberately back off the small twig at his feet.
Lucia let out a deep breath - she hadn’t realized she was holding it in. “Stephen!” she half-sighed in relief, half-cursed in annoyance. She turned away from his watching eyes, walking quickly back to the leaning willow where she had left her sword. She burned with flustered embarrassment, and spoke rapidly to cover her confusion. “I wondered how someone could have gotten this close without Troy alerting me.” She reached down to pick up her sword, sliding it smoothly back into the worn scabbard at her waist.
“Your horse is well trained,” commented Stephen, giving Troy a gentle pat, “but I have been doing this for years.”
Lucia ran her gaze down his lean body. The man, with his small team, had been effectively picking away at the Grays, their only advantage their ability to strike without warning. She had no doubt that he was very good at what he did.
Her mouth went dry, and she turned her head, looking over at the stream.
Stephen let the silence stretch out for a moment, then continued more quietly. “You have a lovely singing voice. I have not heard that song for quite a while - not since my youth in my own homelands.” He clucked to his horse, and when it drew near he tied it to the tree.
“Anyway,” he stated briskly, coming around Prince and standing in front of Lucia, “We need to talk.”
His tone bordered on a command and Lucia grew prickly at it, her gaze sharpening. She moved to a curving willow, settling warily down against it.
Stephen looked down steadily at her, meeting her gaze evenly. “We have a responsibility to keep an eye out for you and ensure your safety. You should know better than to ride into a hostile area alone while you are still injured. You were quite a way from the keep walls ...”
Lucia wondered if she imagined the concern she saw in his eyes. Chastised, she again reminded herself of her responsibility to focus on healing, so she could fulfill her mission. This was really only her first day out of bed, and she had been pushing herself hard. Still, had she been away from the keep for that long? Lucia didn’t remember much time passing. Her chin jutted out. Despite her injuries, her pride chafed at the implication that she couldn’t care for herself.
“I do not consider myself a prisoner here,” she reminded Stephen strongly, her voice coming out a little more sharply than she had intended. “I came to your lands of my own volition, and I am capable of protecting myself. I assure you that the momentary lapse of watchfulness will not occur again.”
Stephen’s somber face did not change. Lucia wanted to know how long he had been watching her, but bit her tongue. She pressed her main point.
“I am not planning on returning to the castle until dusk. If you want to keep an eye on me, you will just have to sit here until then.”
Stephen’s eyes flared with surprise, but he held in whatever response he might have made. It was with clear reluctance that he eased himself down against an elderly oak facing Lucia.
Time drifted by, and Lucia found her anger easing as the water rustled gently through the reeds. It had been a while since she had simply sat enjoying nature. She glanced over at Stephen. It seemed that he, too, was relaxing into the quiet, the tight set of his shoulders gentling.
Stephen’s voice came softly into her thoughts. “Your dancing was beautiful,” he finally complimented her with quiet feeling. “Most people nowadays do not bother to learn the older dances or songs. I always did enjoy them.”
She drew her eyes up to meet his, and she was struck by the mixture of pain and strength she found here. Stephen, more than anyone, could understand the challenges she faced. His skill with a sword and experience in the midst of the Grays was exactly what she craved by her side. And his steady eyes …
He dropped his gaze suddenly, and she gave herself a harsh shake. He was engaged to another. If he had come out to follow her, it was only in the role of a guard caring for an honored visitor.
She tilted her head to one side, pondering the situation more closely. Surely one of the regular guards could have come out to babysit, if the keep’s staff had felt it necessary to keep an eye on her. Marcus had been right there. He undoubtedly had fewer duties to juggle. Why had Stephen come himself?
As she looked him over, she felt that he belonged here, out in the woods. His worn leather armor blended in with the rough tree bark and mossy ground. His quiet patience fit with the serenity of the water flowing along the rocky stream. She thought back to the morning’s sparring practice, when she had watched him in mock combat. His moves had been sure and purposeful. He was a man she could rely on if trouble came. He would be a worthy ally to watch her back …
Lucia shook her head. On one hand she wanted to be alone and think, but on the other, she appreciated having Stephen here in case trouble arose. She had to be honest, to admit that she was not currently up for a fight, even with a lone, inexperienced bandit. She had not been thinking clearly when she approached the gates on her own; right now, being alone in the woods would have been far from wise.<
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Still, did it have to be Stephen, sitting there, watching over her? She felt so comfortable with him nearby… too comfortable. A hundred different topics of conversation sprang to her lips, and she squelched each one in turn. She was constantly reminded that this man was intended for another woman. She had no right to draw him in more closely to her.
Frustrated, Lucia let the silence stretch on. The sun traveled slowly across the sky; the warmth fading.
The forest was quiet; the two horses were resting, their breath softly blowing clouds of steam into the brisk air. Stephen calmly began whittling a small stick with his knife. The silence drifted on. To Lucia’s surprise, sitting quietly with Stephen was even more relaxing than talking with him had been, all those nights. She had never felt this way with another man.
She could not feel this way about this man.
Stephen’s presence called to Lucia, throwing her thoughts into an ever-growing turmoil. She felt as if she was pressed against a shop window, staring at something she desperately desired – but could never afford. She had to get away.
Lucia stood up and made a show of stretching. “I do not feel like relaxing out here any more,” she bit out in harsh frustration, keeping her eyes away from Stephen. “I am going to head back to civilization.” She did not want to leave. She wanted to stay here with him; but she knew she could not. The bitterness of her feelings added an edge to her voice. “If you still want to play baby-sitter, you are welcome to join me on my short ride.”
Stephen’s eyes flashed, and she saw the effort of will it took him to rein in his emotions. A burst of satisfaction washed through her. Good. He deserved it, after not telling her that he was engaged.
The ludicrous nature of her charge struck her, and she shook her head. Surely the man was not required to warn her that he was unavailable. He had cared for her through a life-threatening illness. He had done all he could to keep her alive. And now she was dismissive of his efforts? All because she had become fond of him – something she heard was quite normal for patients in this situation?
