Protected: Chapter Four
Protected
Chapter Four: Fever
After Zahir’s unfounded accusations, Kel’s demeanor toward him was deliberately cool and scornful. He surveyed her with a similar expression. Only in the evenings, when they gathered with Sir Martin to discuss their course, their soldiers, and their dwindling supplies. It was clear they would have to stop to replenish very soon; in fact, Sir Martin insisted on stopping at the nearest village that could accommodate them.
The village stop was a pleasant change for the men. Having arrived in the late afternoon, they had plenty of time to set up camp to Sir Martin’s satisfaction, who then agreed to let two thirds of their force spend their time in the village, while the remainder kept watch. He also left a sergeant in command, so all three knights had their time to themselves.
Ignoring Zahir, not even interested in his plans, Kel headed straight for the village temple. She prayed to Mithros an the Goddess, and left token offerings for both. As she was uninterested in the tavern, the only building of note in the village other than the tiny temple and the locked and bolted blacksmith’s shop, she decided to take a walk.
The evening was cold, but Kel didn’t mind. Having an evening away from the veiled threat of Zahir was a blessing, regardless of the weather. She strayed, trusting her sense of direction to guide her back to the camp in the dark. When she noticed the damp ground underneath her feet getting softer and boggier and the air around her more humid and buzzing with flies, she turned her heel and walked back to the village. No sense walking into a swamp.
“A might odd thing, seein’ a knight out alone in a place like this.” Turning quickly at the sound of a voice to her left, Kel bared her sword, alert. “Evenin’, sir knight,” said the voice, which appeared to belong to an old woman, standing beneath a large oak.
“Good evening, mistress,” replied Kel, still cautious.
“Aww, just call me Grandmother Genda, m’dear. Everyone else does.” The woman approached Kel.
Kel sheathed her sword. No use scaring the poor old woman, is there?
“I’m glad to see you put that thing away,” said Genda, “I never been a lover of cold steel.”
“It’s the steel I use to protect myself, Grandmother,” Kel replied, “so you must excuse me if I’m biased in its favor.”
“Of course, m’dear,” said Genda kindly. “Might not you be the lass? The lady knight?”
“I am,” acknowledged Kel.
Genda smiled. “’Tis a strong thing you do, if hard. And you look like a strong and hard lass.”
Kel made a face. A strong and hard lass? That was one way to put it.
“The strong fear their weaknesses,” Genda was saying, her expression that of a sage or profound oracle. “Fear you your own weakness, Lady Knight?”
One short, sharp shake of the head delivered Keladry’s answer.
The unthreatening woman drew closer. In a mothering gesture, she placed a hand on Kel’s cheek. Then her eyes grew sad, and she shook her head. “Wrong you answer, m’dear. I feel a fever in your blood.”
“No.” Keladry drew away, anger in the hardened lines of her face. “I’ll hear no more of this talk of fevers and weakness, mistress. Who put you up to this? As Mithros is my witness, you tell me to whom you answer!”
“I answer to my king and the Goddess,” said the woman, “no one else.”
“Lies,” said the knight flatly, getting angrier and angrier. “Tell me!”
The woman began walking away. “Don’t do this, lass. You’re ruinnin’ yerself.” And she left.
A furious Kel started back to camp, her booted feet pounding the ground, muttering oaths under her breath. She was flushed for fury - that was it. She knew they were all against her. Hadn’t they been, since the very first day? Sabotaging her calling, that’s what they were doing. The likes of them would damn the realm, if she let them. But she’d never let that happen.
Walking resolutely into the camp, after having reached it in record time, she headed straight for the officers’ tents. These were all set up, just like the rest of the camp. The flap of one tent was already down; Sir Martin was asleep. Rather than follow his lead, she waited near the second tent. Any moment now, he would come, and find her already there. Won’t that be a shock?
“I warned you, ibn Ilhaz,” she hissed from the shadows, as the man’s form approached the tent.
His eyes were searching for her. “Mindelan?”
“I thought we had reached an understanding. You were to leave me be.”
“Mindelan,” his voice sounded annoyed, “what are you doing?”
“Anything I must in order to secure my freedom from your attempts to undermine my knighthood.”
Even in the dark she could see his face form a scowl. “That is absurd. If you speak of the matter of your disputed health, I was only doing my duty. It would harm you and the rest of us if you were to press beyond your body’s ability to cope.”
“I was not - “ She’d been leaning a hand on a sapling that grew between her tent and Zahir’s. But, through the darkness, her vision was getting blotchy. She was dizzy. She rested more of her weight on the trunk her hand was on.
“Mindelan?” she heard a faraway voice saying, and then, “Lady Knight!” Then she heard no more.
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Chapter Four: Fever
After Zahir’s unfounded accusations, Kel’s demeanor toward him was deliberately cool and scornful. He surveyed her with a similar expression. Only in the evenings, when they gathered with Sir Martin to discuss their course, their soldiers, and their dwindling supplies. It was clear they would have to stop to replenish very soon; in fact, Sir Martin insisted on stopping at the nearest village that could accommodate them.
The village stop was a pleasant change for the men. Having arrived in the late afternoon, they had plenty of time to set up camp to Sir Martin’s satisfaction, who then agreed to let two thirds of their force spend their time in the village, while the remainder kept watch. He also left a sergeant in command, so all three knights had their time to themselves.
Ignoring Zahir, not even interested in his plans, Kel headed straight for the village temple. She prayed to Mithros an the Goddess, and left token offerings for both. As she was uninterested in the tavern, the only building of note in the village other than the tiny temple and the locked and bolted blacksmith’s shop, she decided to take a walk.
The evening was cold, but Kel didn’t mind. Having an evening away from the veiled threat of Zahir was a blessing, regardless of the weather. She strayed, trusting her sense of direction to guide her back to the camp in the dark. When she noticed the damp ground underneath her feet getting softer and boggier and the air around her more humid and buzzing with flies, she turned her heel and walked back to the village. No sense walking into a swamp.
“A might odd thing, seein’ a knight out alone in a place like this.” Turning quickly at the sound of a voice to her left, Kel bared her sword, alert. “Evenin’, sir knight,” said the voice, which appeared to belong to an old woman, standing beneath a large oak.
“Good evening, mistress,” replied Kel, still cautious.
“Aww, just call me Grandmother Genda, m’dear. Everyone else does.” The woman approached Kel.
Kel sheathed her sword. No use scaring the poor old woman, is there?
“I’m glad to see you put that thing away,” said Genda, “I never been a lover of cold steel.”
“It’s the steel I use to protect myself, Grandmother,” Kel replied, “so you must excuse me if I’m biased in its favor.”
“Of course, m’dear,” said Genda kindly. “Might not you be the lass? The lady knight?”
“I am,” acknowledged Kel.
Genda smiled. “’Tis a strong thing you do, if hard. And you look like a strong and hard lass.”
Kel made a face. A strong and hard lass? That was one way to put it.
“The strong fear their weaknesses,” Genda was saying, her expression that of a sage or profound oracle. “Fear you your own weakness, Lady Knight?”
One short, sharp shake of the head delivered Keladry’s answer.
The unthreatening woman drew closer. In a mothering gesture, she placed a hand on Kel’s cheek. Then her eyes grew sad, and she shook her head. “Wrong you answer, m’dear. I feel a fever in your blood.”
“No.” Keladry drew away, anger in the hardened lines of her face. “I’ll hear no more of this talk of fevers and weakness, mistress. Who put you up to this? As Mithros is my witness, you tell me to whom you answer!”
“I answer to my king and the Goddess,” said the woman, “no one else.”
“Lies,” said the knight flatly, getting angrier and angrier. “Tell me!”
The woman began walking away. “Don’t do this, lass. You’re ruinnin’ yerself.” And she left.
A furious Kel started back to camp, her booted feet pounding the ground, muttering oaths under her breath. She was flushed for fury - that was it. She knew they were all against her. Hadn’t they been, since the very first day? Sabotaging her calling, that’s what they were doing. The likes of them would damn the realm, if she let them. But she’d never let that happen.
Walking resolutely into the camp, after having reached it in record time, she headed straight for the officers’ tents. These were all set up, just like the rest of the camp. The flap of one tent was already down; Sir Martin was asleep. Rather than follow his lead, she waited near the second tent. Any moment now, he would come, and find her already there. Won’t that be a shock?
“I warned you, ibn Ilhaz,” she hissed from the shadows, as the man’s form approached the tent.
His eyes were searching for her. “Mindelan?”
“I thought we had reached an understanding. You were to leave me be.”
“Mindelan,” his voice sounded annoyed, “what are you doing?”
“Anything I must in order to secure my freedom from your attempts to undermine my knighthood.”
Even in the dark she could see his face form a scowl. “That is absurd. If you speak of the matter of your disputed health, I was only doing my duty. It would harm you and the rest of us if you were to press beyond your body’s ability to cope.”
“I was not - “ She’d been leaning a hand on a sapling that grew between her tent and Zahir’s. But, through the darkness, her vision was getting blotchy. She was dizzy. She rested more of her weight on the trunk her hand was on.
“Mindelan?” she heard a faraway voice saying, and then, “Lady Knight!” Then she heard no more.
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