by Morgan Henry
She took stock of her body. Her arm was definitely healed and working again. She didn’t feel dizzy and nauseous, but she wasn’t quite right, either. Her limbs felt heavy and she wasn’t sure if that was because she was tucked into bed so securely, or if they weren’t working quite right.
Cella slowly opened her eyes. The room was dim. There was a lamp on the bedside table to her right. It was lit, but turned low. There was a door opposite the her. The covers over her were light green and she was in a single bed. The small fireplace to her left had a low flame as well. A chair sat beside the fireplace and angled to face the bed. In it rested Arto.
He was fast asleep. His long body was slumped in the chair and his feet were propped on an ottoman. It didn’t look at all comfortable. His shirt was somewhat rumpled and his hair was mussed. A shadow of a beard covered his chin. She wondered if he had been there all night.
Was it morning? There was a window opposite the fireplace but the heavy curtains were drawn. She couldn’t tell if it was light or dark outside.
The door opened silently.
A young man with a healer green sash entered the room. He caught her eye and held a finger to his lips. He held the door and Kyna brought a covered tray in and set it on the bedside table, then tiptoed out.
“How are you feeling?” asked the man in almost a whisper.
“Better. Much better,” Cella answered in an equally low volume.
“My name is Kers. I’m the apprentice healer here.” He gave her a comforting, reassuring smile and helped her to sit up.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Since you came, yesterday afternoon. It’s barely dawn now. Master Darse worked on your head for a while. He says you will need further healing at Kerfaen Keep. For now, you are to rest. You are also to make sure you drink extra fluids and get something to eat.”
Cella suddenly realized she was quite thirsty. “May I have something to drink, please?”
Kers removed the cover from the tray and handed her a cup of water. She drank it all down gratefully. She accepted the cup of tea he offered next. This she sipped a little slower. It was an herbal blend, likely meant to help her in some way, she thought. It was sweetened with some honey and didn’t taste too unpleasant.
Kers bent and pulled a folding tray from under the bed and set it up over her knees. He placed the teapot on it and a bowl of oatmeal, liberally laced with apples and honey. It smelled quite appealing. Cella was a bit surprised at this, she had wondered if food might make her feel a bit ill.
She ate slowly, enjoying the bland sweetness, and the fact that it seemed to sit well in her stomach. Kers stayed with her. She wasn’t sure if the young man was to ensure she ate it all, or if he was supposed to be there in case she couldn’t keep the oatmeal down.
“Has His Grace been here the entire night?” Cella gestured to Arto with her spoon.
“Wouldn’t leave your side for a moment.” Kers’s lovely grin flashed at her again. “Master Darse said you wouldn’t wake until morning and that he should get some decent rest at the inn, but the Duke wouldn’t hear of it.”
Cella felt a little conflicted hearing that. There was guilt that she was the cause of him spending the night in that uncomfortable position, but she was also a little flattered that he would not leave her.
Ah, but that’s his duty, she reminded herself. And Arto would never shirk his duty.
A little part of her hoped, though, that he stayed because they were lovers.
Chapter 9
Arto heard the clink of cutlery and started awake.
He jerked in the chair that was comfortable enough to sit in, but made a terrible bed. His feet slid off the ottoman with a thump.
Cella and Kers were looking at him, wide-eyed expressions of surprise on their faces.
“I’m sorry, Arto, I thought we were being quiet enough not to wake you.” Cella’s voice was soft and apologetic.
“Apologies, your Grace,” added Kers. “I’ll see that your man knows you’ll be needing him.” Kers rose gracefully and exited the room.
Arto scrubbed his face with his hand and took Kers’s place on the bed beside Cella.
“Sola, I’m so relieved to see you awake.”
Arto was relieved. Master Darse had easily repaired the broken arm, but Cella’s head was another matter. The healer reported there was damage inside her skull that he could help, but wasn’t talented enough to fully repair. Cella would be unsteady and weakened until the Healer in Kerfaen Keep could do more for her.
Though Arto had no reason to doubt the Healer, there was a part of him that wouldn’t be satisfied until Cella awoke and could speak to him. He had fretted all night about Cella’s injuries. He knew they were now beyond his control, but he fretted anyway.
Sir Rorec had come to let him know all was well with their group. They were settled in the nearby inn. Sir Gyl had the honour of the gerto kill and would profit handsomely from the sale of the meat and hide. Arto was happy for him. He would gladly pay Sir Gyl the amount he made from the gerto ten times over to have Cella safe.
“How do you feel, Cella?” he asked gently.
“Much better than yesterday,” she answered wryly.
Arto was surprised at her reply. He was concerned that she would be deeply traumatized from a horse-related injury. He chose his next words carefully. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Yes, mostly. The gerto frightened Marta, I fell and injured myself. You tried to fend off the beast and someone shot it with an arrow.” Cella watched the fire and shivered a little at her sparse account of the events, one hand fisted in the covers.
Her head suddenly snapped back to him and she winced with the sudden movement.
“Are you hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was anyone else hurt?”
“No, we are all well,” he reassured her, his hand finding hers and stroking it soothingly. His other hand cupped her cheek for a second.
“Was Marta hurt? Or Merlo?”
A corner of Arto’s lips turned up. “You’re asking about a horse?”
Cella’s lips twitched. “I guess that’s a testament to your riding lessons.”
“Marta is fine, as are the rest of the horses.” Arto marvelled at her. He was shocked she was not more mentally distraught. Of course, he hadn’t asked her to get on a horse yet.
Cella looked at him critically, her eyes narrowed, and a little crease appeared in her forehead. “You really should get some proper sleep.”
“Do I look that bad?”
“Well, no,” she stammered at him, the crease disappearing. “I, er, just think that chair can’t have made for much rest.”
Tors and Kyna chose that moment to enter the small room. They bore clean clothing for Cella and a basin of warm water.
“Your Grace,” said Tors, “I have clean clothes and shaving implements ready in the next room if you wish to tidy up.”
“Thank you, Tors.” He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll be back, Cella.”
After a quick bath, shave, and change of clothes, Arto sought out Master Darse.
“Have you had a chance to look in on Lady Cella this morning, Master?” he asked the elderly healer.
“Yes, and she’s doing as well as to be expected. Her head still pains her a little and sudden movements bother her, but she is stable and should stay that way long enough to get to Kerfaen Keep. In all honesty, your Grace, she is out of danger. Even if no further healing were done, she would be fine in a few weeks.”
Master Darse spoke with the assurance of long experience. He also had the kindness of a man who knows how difficult it is to have loved ones injured.
“Thank you again for your healing. I feel the need to get her to Kerfaen Keep today. Should she ride?”
Master Darse considered this for a moment.
“I would not like to see her ride on her own. Nor do I think she would find an enclosed carriage comfortable. With her head, the swaying motion…” He trailed off and shook hi
s head.
“My preference would be to have her rest here another day. If you feel that is not possible, then care must be taken that she does not fall again. She is likely to have dizzy spells that would make riding dangerous.”
Arto pondered this. “What if she were to ride double with me? I could ensure she does not fall.”
Darse cocked his head to one side and sighed. “Is it truly necessary to get her to the keep today?”
“I trust you, Master Darse, I really do. But I cannot take any chances with her. If I delay and she relapses, there will be hell to pay.” Arto was ridden by fear and guilt that he had allowed her to be hurt. He couldn’t delay any treatment.
“I understand,” said Darse heavily. “Yes, ride with her then. But take it easy, go slowly. And make sure she stops to eat and drink. I will send some of the tea that will help keep her dizziness and nausea at bay.”
“Thank you, Master Darse. I am truly grateful for your skill and compassion.” Arto bowed deeply to the healer. He thanked the God and Goddess that the man had the skill to stabilize Cella to the extent that he had.
Arto slipped over to the inn and updated Sir Rorec on the plans. He split the group, sending most ahead to the keep. There they could get the horses settled and look to their own duties and comfort. Rorec would see to the healer, make sure the King was updated on the situation, and ensure Arto’s suite of rooms in Kerfaen Keep were ready for he and Cella.
A few guards, Tors, Kyna, Arto, and Cella would travel slowly to the capital. It would take the full day, but Rorec would arrange to have the healer waiting for Cella. Hopefully she would be completely healed by nightfall.
Arto knocked on the door to Cella’s room at the healer’s. Entering when bidden, he found Cella dressed and sitting by the fire.
“Sola, how are you feeling now?” he asked and sat on the ottoman facing her, his elbows on his knees, looking critically at her.
“I’m not quite myself yet, but Master Darse assures me I will get better with time. He also mentioned there was a healer at Kerfaen Keep that would likely be able to do more for my head.” She gave him a slight smile.
Arto swallowed. “I want to get you to the keep as soon as possible. But that will mean some riding. Do you think you are able to ride on Merlo with me?”
Arto was unsure how she would answer. Would she be mentally able to get back on a horse? Or would he have to scramble for a carriage or wagon and take longer to get to the keep?
Cella stared at the fire. She was silent and still, and Arto let her mull over whatever was on her mind.
“Strangely enough, I think I can ride with you,” Cella said quietly.
Arto let out a relieved breath.
“You have changed my feelings toward horses, you know,” she continued in that same soft, contemplative tone. “I’m still sometimes unsure, and sometimes frightened, but not like I was. My memories of my brother’s death are a child’s memories. They’re hazy and in them, the horse seems like an evil being, deliberately killing my brother. But I suspect that my brother was just in the way, and it was a terrible accident.”
“I wasn’t there, so I can’t say for sure what happened.” Arto took Cella’s hands in his own, marvelling at their smallness compared to his.
“My experience is that, unless the horse is war trained and in battle, they don’t deliberately seek out people to trample.” He rubbed his thumbs in circles on her palms.
Cella watched his caresses of her hands. “I’m not completely thrilled about riding today. Please don’t give me more credit than I am due. But I’ll try.”
“I’ve learned that you are braver than you think. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Arto kept his arm around Cella as they thanked Master Darse and Kers again. Leaving the healer’s home, they found the few members of their party mounted and ready.
Arto gave Merlo a scratch on the head and helped Cella into the saddle. He mounted behind her and wrapped his arms around her body to grip the reins. They started off slowly. Cella gave a small sigh and settled into his arms, her small body leaning against him a little.
The day was fine and despite their slow pace, they made steady progress. The roads in this part of the kingdom were well used and maintained. There was some traffic, but not enough to impede their progress.
They stopped several times to allow Cella a brief rest. She did eat a little and drank the tea, as Master Darse had instructed her. Arto switched mounts at these breaks, not wanting to tire Merlo too much carrying double.
It made Cella laugh a little to see that Merlo was not happy to see another horse carrying his master. He chafed and stamped, fussed and snorted when not being ridden.
“I would not have thought it would wound him so, to see you with another horse. He’s like a jealous wife,” she observed.
Arto laughed at the comparison. “Almost. A wife has the right to expect fidelity, but a horse shouldn’t be so possessive. I must admit, I’m glad he knows he’s mine, but I could do without the dramatics.”
As the sun was setting, they entered the capital city of Kerban. It was a port on Kerfaen Bay, but they entered opposite the water.
The area they travelled through was wealthy, with broad streets and houses set back from the road. Lawns and lush gardens surrounded these mansions. As they got closer to the Keep itself, there were a variety of businesses, shops, and smaller homes. The light from the windows spilled onto the streets and added illumination to the spelled light posts.
Arto could tell Cella was tired. She drowsed in his arms, starting awake now and again. She had weathered the journey well, and he was glad they would be in Kerfaen Keep shortly. She would be safe there and healed by morning, he hoped.
Cella woke as she was handed down off Arto’s horse. She struggled as Tors tried to settle her in his arms.
“It’s all right,” his man’s light baritone soothed her. “You’re safe and we’ll get you well.”
Arto handed Merlo off to the groom. “Give her to me, I’ll take her to the healer’s rooms.”
She was transferred to Arto’s arms, where he watched her let sleep take her again. Arto delivered her to the healers where the Master that would treat her waited.
Arto sat beside Cella as Master Kerla worked. Though he couldn’t see the healing power of kerfios, Arto could sense the power in the room. It took the better part of an hour for the Master to heal the delicate tissues inside Cella’s head, but when she was done, Master Kerla was pleased.
Kerla assured Arto that she had healed the damage inside Cella’s head. Cella would sleep for quite some time and need a few more days of rest, but she would be fine.
With that reassurance, Arto headed to make his report to his King.
King Graydon was in his private sitting room. Arto found him lounging on a couch, wine goblet in hand, reading some correspondence.
“Your majesty,” greeted Arto with a bow.
“Glad to see you’re in one piece, my dear Duke,” responded Graydon. “Rorec filled me in on the, ah, excitement of yesterday.”
“My apologies, Sire.” Arto’s voice was tight. “I should have been closer to her. I should have checked her tack personally to make sure the billet straps were in good repair.”
“I know you, Arto. If this had truly been predictable, you would have prevented it. I’m grateful you were there to protect her and see her healed. You have nothing to fear from me.” Graydon gestured to the wine on the sideboard. “Please, help yourself. Did you just arrive? Have you eaten?”
Arto poured himself a glass of the fine white wine. “I saw Lady Cella healed. She’ll be fine. And no, I have not eaten yet, Sire.”
Graydon rang for his servant and asked for food to be sent up for Arto.
“So, you have saved the life of the Jorval noble. I’m extraordinarily grateful not to have to send a letter to her uncle describing her demise.” The King’s voice deepened with sincerity as he gave his thanks. “You have my appreciation,
Duke Arto.”
Arto saluted his sovereign with his wine, then grimaced.
“I don’t feel particularly heroic, Sire.” He should have been closer, paying more attention to the surroundings. “She’s a very inexperienced rider and I shouldn’t have been so far from her.”
Graydon’s voice lightened. “Come now, Arto. You can’t be glued to her side. Rorec told me about her riding lessons. He gave me a fairly detailed account of your journey. He’s quite impressed by the fortitude the timid girl has shown. Tell me about her.”
“She’s braver than she lets on, Sire. She’s also smart and powerful and she knows her duty. You’ll have no trouble with her for the year.”
A servant delivered a tray of food for Arto and left silently.
Arto ate a few bites. Now that Cella was safe, he was ravenous.
“May I ask how things are here, Sire?” Arto was still part of the King’s council and despite his focus on his little sola, he needed to know about the rest of the kingdom.
“The Torquin captive continues to be a thorn in my side,” Graydon grunted in irritation.
The fall had seen an attempted invasion by Torquin, the kingdom to the west of Kerban. Thanks to Merrin and Aenid, it had been unsuccessful. In the process, they had captured the cousin of the Emperor. He was being held in Kerfaen Keep, treated well as his rank demanded, but not allowed to leave as yet.
“What is he doing now?” Arto frowned. Royal captives were often more trouble than they were worth.
“He’s attempted to seduce the maids, and if seduction fails, he tries to intimidate them. We’re discouraging their presence in his room unless there are guards. He repeatedly attempts to escape. We’ve had to ward the doors to his rooms. We’ve caught some clandestine letters being sent. I worry that some have made it to Torquin already.” Graydon sighed. “I’m tempted to hang him rather than ransom him.”
“If he succeeds in violence against any of our people, you will.” Arto knew that Graydon would not excuse assault, regardless of rank. Though the King hoped and strived for peace, he had no problem meeting out justice and upholding the laws for all.
