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"Firstborn"


Chapter 1
Firstborn

By Mufasa

Northern Wales / 765 AD
 
 
 
Cold.
Deep, aching, cold. 
That was what she remembered most about the sea cave. She had been there for a night and a day, and soon another night would come. She chewed on seaweed to have something in her stomach, but this made her thirst nearly overwhelming. Her fear of what was outside the cave was all that stopped her from venturing out to find water.
The waves had rushed into the cave mouth all the previous night, slamming into the rear wall and arching upwards, soaking her with spray over and over again. Her skin was coated with dried salt, and cracked and pulled at her when she moved. In that long night, she shook violently and faded in and out of awareness. Her vision was blurred, and she saw things that were not there. Many times she would suddenly sit upright and grasp the large rock nearby, holding it to her stomach. She would drown herself before being taken. The night approached once again.
 
The waves are calling me, that's it. She heard her name again and thought this. She noticed she was no longer shaking, and the cold seemed to have gone from her body.
 
  “Kala!”
 
Again the waves. How do they know my name? Wait – there are no waves now. They stopped last night. Is that right? Last night? And why do the waves sound like a boy? She rolled and pushed herself up onto one elbow, looking toward the cave mouth. Someone was there, coming toward her!
 
  “I told you,” someone shouted. “I told you she would be here!”
 
Panicked now, she tried to rise but could not. She screamed wordlessly, the sound echoing around the cave. She rolled to the edge of the wall and fell. The impact of the water tore the breath from her, and she was under. She heard sounds while falling, eerie and distant, then all sound was gone, replaced by a smothering silence. She inhaled and knew nothing more.
 
Pressure. Someone was on her, pushing her. She tried to scream but vomited, screaming through the water being pushed from her lungs. She fought against the attacker, swinging her fist backwards and slamming it into something hard.
 
  “She lives, Uncle!” A young boy was standing on a beam and holding a rope to keep his balance.
 
  “Aye Robert, she does at that,” another said.
 
This one was much older, and had a knife on his belt. If she could just reach it, she might... but she vomited again, heaving very little water out this time.
 
  “Easy lass. Ya' had a rough time of it. Robert, pass the spoon, will ya?”
 
The boy handed the man a ladle, which he held for Kala.
 
  “It's water, lass. Please now, ya' need to drink.”
 
Kala tried to hold the ladle but spilled it, cursing. The boy refilled the ladle, and this time the man held it for her while she drank.
 
  “Enough for now, lass. You'll sick it up.”
 
Kala adjusted herself, sitting against the front of the small boat. The man handed her a piece of flat bread.
 
  “Chew it very good, odderwise you'll be spattering my boat with it soon after ya' swallow it.”
 
Kala took the bread and shoved a handful into her mouth, chewing as fast as she could.
 
  “Sorry about it bein' hard, we've been tryin' to get to ya' for a while, and them bastards have been watchin' us all the time. We had to fish while they were lookin'.”
 
She looked at them both while chewing, and taking more water to be able to swallow the stale bread.
 
  “Oh–I bet you're wonderin' who I... we are. I am Allan, and that there young man is my nephew, Robert.” Robert smiled and waved from the rear of the boat. “He pulled you up from the water. Jumped right in afore I could stop him. Sorry about your shirt; he tore it off ya' tryin' to get ya' into the boat.”
 
Kala then noticed that she was wrapped in a piece of canvas, and they were at sea. “Where are we,” she tried to say, but her voice broke, and she pulled the canvas to her.
 
  “Easy now, you're safe–well, safer than ya' were a few hours ago”
 
  “The raiders–” Kala began.
 
  “No-no-no, you be easy now, they don't know ya' be on the boat, and they don't know where we're headed. You're safe.”
 
  “Safe,” she repeated. “Safe.”
 
Allan handed her another small piece of flat bread. She looked at him, and through him. “I know what they done to ya', lass. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say.”
 
Kala shook, and held the canvas to her face. She wanted to cry–tried to cry, but there were no tears in her now. She pulled the canvas tighter, and screamed. 
 
***
 
No one had seen the ship that landed on the northern coast of Gwyned. They had probably come ashore at night, and crept inland to replenish their stores. The few villages that they encountered were destroyed–the people in them butchered. Men, women, children, animals… everything. Anything that was not useful or that could not be carried away was put to the torch. It was as if they were not human, but demons set about to ravage everything that they encountered. The flames were seen from where Kala had been - a small village, no more than twenty people. No one dared believe that Saxon raiders had landed this far north. When they first saw them, they had no idea what they were. Some screamed that Saxons were attacking, but Kala had seen Saxons, and when she heard their shouts and battle cries, she immediately knew what they were: Northmen.
 
She had seen them before, beyond the gap. She watched as they unfurled their red sails and came ashore in their sharp-prowed ship, and had listened to their vulgar language without understanding it. Kala had thought them scavengers, searching the coastline for anything of value. She was partially correct. She had watched them depart as well, sailing quickly west. Luckily, there had been nothing in their landing spot that was of interest to them, but they had left something behind. Kala picked up the talisman where it had fallen on the beach. She had never seen its like. She wrapped it in a cloth and placed it into a pouch that she wore under her clothes. Later, a merchant in Market Square had explained to her what it was.
 
  “It’s a troll cross.”
 
  “A what?” Kala frowned.
 
  “Bloody Northmen have a god for everything,” the merchant went on. “Rocks, trees, thunder, everything. That there is ‘spose to keep trolls and such away from ya'. They say that’s about all that they fear; spirits and such.”
 
  “Trolls.” Kala repeated.
 
They had burst from the forest like wolves, screaming and swinging sword and ax. None could stand before them. There were no fighters in these small villages, and no weapons to speak of. It was slaughter.
Kala was snatched from her hiding place and groped and fondled by an unknown number of them before one of them shouted something and she was tossed aside, nearly naked. She watched as two or three exchanged words and shouts, then the fight ensued. One was cut nearly in two by another's sword and one was stabbed, but did not die. He raised his hand and lowered his ax, showing defeat. The horror then began in earnest for Kala.
 
At some point during that night, the animal had fallen asleep. His snoring shook Kala's hair, and every move she made threatened to wake him. She managed to retrieve part of her clothing and was about to sneak away when she saw the blade. She listened for a moment. Hearing only snores and crackling from the fires, she eased the blade from the leather scabbard and slammed it into the animal's throat, ripping left to right. She clamped her hand across his mouth and pushed downward with all that she was. Bloody froth sprayed into her face and onto her body, and then it was still. Her head snapped around to see if anyone had heard. Nothing moved. Kala removed the blade, and still shaking with rage and fear, stabbed it again and again into the animal’s groin. She slashed across his fat stomach, opening it so that the entrails bulged outward and fell onto the fur that he was lying on. She cut the small satchel open that was still tied onto her dress, and removed the troll cross. She crouched, and placed the talisman into the animal’s mouth. Looking again to make sure that she had not been seen, she bolted from the camp and into the darkness.
 
***
 
The rocking boat made her sick. She had nearly lost the bread and water several times during the first few hours of the journey. Allan told her to lie flat in the bottom with her hands by her sides, looking up at the clouds. This seemed to help somewhat and she was able to keep the food down.
They were headed for the Gap. If Allan had read the tide correctly, they would enter just after the tides turned inward. Their small, nearly flat-bottom boat would draw far less than any large sailing vessel, as the larger ones were always hard pressed to make it all the way through to the south end without running aground at least several times.
 
  “The wind is on us,” Robert said, grinning at Kala.
 
  “Aye, it is at that my boy,” Allan yelled, smiling back. The small boat raced southward. Within a short time, Kala saw the sea once more. They exited the Gap near what was known as “The Chin,” although Allen could not explain why it was called that.
 
  “We need to find somewhere to hide out for the night,” Allan said. “We need to get ya' on land for a bit, and we need fresh water and a fire to cook these fish.”
 
Kala's mouth watered at the idea. A far cry from what she was feeling only a short while ago. She had slept several times today, but she was still exhausted and very weak. They sailed until nearly dark, finally locating the cove that Allan was looking for. They lowered the sail and rowed the small boat into a shallow inlet, on the back side of a huge section of rock and earth that had long since fallen away from the cliffs above. The tide would leave them stranded here tonight, but it would be almost impossible for anyone to see them, either from the approach from the sea or from the cliffs above.
 
***
 
The fire was already out. “No need for it in this wind, Allan told her. “It'll be better if we stay as dark and quiet as we can.”
 
No matter. The fish were all cooked and Robert had found the wall spring that Allan knew was there. Their bellies were full, and their flasks and skins were full of fresh water. They even had a few fish left over for the rest of the journey.
 
  “You said you knew I would be there,” Kala said this looking towards Robert, who now squirmed under her gaze. “How?”
 
Allan patted the boy's shoulder and told him to answer. “It's alright boy, she's not gonna' hurt ya.”
 
Robert sat straighter and took a deep breath. “I knew what they--what he was going to do. I don't know how I knew--I just knew.”
 
Kala nodded. “Go on Robert. It's alright. How did you know I was alive after--after that?”
 
Robert frowned, but continued. “I saw you—not then, I mean—but before morning. I watched them from the forest and I saw you sit up and—and—”
 
Kala went to the boy and sat next to him.
 
  “I didn't want to believe you were dead,” he whispered.
 
  “It's alright, Robert.” She kissed his cheek, causing him to redden like a sunrise.
 
  “He left the boat to see after you,” Allan added. “We was already leaving and he decided that ya' were the prettiest girl that he had ever seen and had to try to save ya'.”
 
Robert flared at that last. “Uncle!” He stomped off down the beach out of their field of view.
 
  “Never thought twice about it; told me he was goin' and that was the end of it. Bravest thing I ever did see, other than jumping into that slosh inside the cave, tryin' to save your pretty neck again. At least he managed that time.”
 
Kala lowered her head.
 
  “Here now, there'll be nunathat. You're alive lass, and the dog that hurt you is... well, from what Robert tells, he's in hell–in pieces!” Allan held out his hand and she took it. He patted her hand and nodded, giving her a tight smile.
They slept in the boat; Kala in the back, curled up in canvas and a blanket, Allan and Robert in the middle and front. The waves were not speaking that night, and she slept without dreams.


Chapter 2
Firstborn

By Mufasa

 
As morning approached, Allan stepping back into the boat shook her awake. “Tide will be under us in a bit, lass. Best be finding a spot around the way there to do your business, and we can be out again.”
 
Kala stood and stretched, hurting everywhere, her mouth as dry as sand.
 
“We'll be ready when you return,” Allan said. “Our boy, Robert has already headed in the other direction.”
 
She stepped off the boat into ankle-deep water and made her way around the rock slide and massive boulder. The sun warmed her back as she waded. A small starfish caught her attention, she picked it up and turned it over as she moved onto the beach, smiling at the hundreds of undulating feet. Directly in front of her, a horse snorted loudly and shook it's head. It shocked Kala so badly that she stumbled backwards into the boulder. She then noticed what was atop the huge horse and screamed.  
 
Allan, still in the boat, slammed his head into the beam and fell into the shallow water. Robert heard Kala's scream as well, and bolted back up the beach strand. His thoughts raced as he ran. What if the raiders caught us? What can I do? I'd rather die than see her taken. So be it, he told himself.
 
Allan ran as best he could for a man of his age and ailments, not knowing what he would do when he rounded the corner and saw God-knew-what. What he saw was not what he expected. Kala was backed against the rock fall, and in front of her was a man on a war horse. His helm was strapped to his pommel, and Allan saw two swords and as many knives strapped to locations on the animal.
Kala held a rock in one hand and supported herself with the other. She was shaking badly and clearly in a panic. The man sat motionless. He seemed to study Kala and then Allan, and Robert as well as he arrived and slid to a falling halt in the sand. The man pulled back on the reins and the horse responded instantly, backing away from the three people in front of him. The big horse never took his eyes from them. Allan decided to take a chance.
 
“Sir, we apologize if we trespassed. If you'll see fit ta' allow us, we'll be gone wit' the incoming tide.”
 
The stranger made no reply at first, until Kala hefted the rock. He looked at her squarely. His eyes were calm but held the menace of quick, deadly, violence. “If you injure my horse with that rock, your morning shall end badly.”
 
His voice was not harsh, and had a local accent. He was, Allan guessed, at least thirteen stone--perhaps fourteen. His gear was well cared for, and his garments were clean. This meant he was probably not a raider of any sort. Allan noted all of this.
 
The man turned his gaze to Allan. “Why are you here?” Allan was caught off guard and bungled the response, glancing toward Kala.
 
The horseman shifted in the saddle, leaning forward. “What chases you.” 
 
“Not, uhh... us,” Allan responded, “her.”
 
The horseman looked back to Kala, and seemed to come to a decision. He reined back a few more paces and slid smoothly off the saddle. He appeared much taller standing on the ground. The man moved toward Allan and Robert, patting the horse’s jaw as he approached. The horse kept pace, never taking his eyes from the people in front of him.  Stopping only paces from the two, the stranger spoke again. “What chases... her?” A slight nod in Kala's direction.
 
“We need no permission to land for water and rest, especially from a highwayman.” Kala's voice sounded strained in her attempt to show bravery.  She slowly lowered the stone to her side.
 
“Kala,” Allan said calmly, “this is no highwayman or any odder' sort o' lout. This man is a soldier, and I suspect a seasoned one at that.”
 
“Now that we have established that, what chases this... woman?”
 
“I have a name,” Kala nearly shouted.
 
“Noted, and unimportant,” the man replied.
 
“We're headed south, as far from the Gap as possible, as quickly as possible,” Allan explained. “We were tryin' ta' spot either friendly encampments or King Offa's forces along the coast.”
 
“Raiders?”
 
Allan nodded.
 
“You've arrived then,” the stranger said. “You are safe here. Offa's fortress is less than two days from here. His men patrol this area at all times.”
 
“How do we know you are not lying?” Kala blustered, stepping away from the fall.
 
“Because if I were not offering safety we would not be having this conversation.” The man only glanced at Kala as he spoke. “If you need to attend to morning duties, I suggest you be about it.” 
 
Kala reddened at the order. It was an order in her eyes, at least. “And I suggest that you speak to me with greater care–soldier, or whatever you–what is your name so that I may address you?”
 
“It is of no importance.”
 
Allan thought and then spoke again, but carefully. “Uh, what may I call you to thank ya' for your service, if ya' please, sir?”
 
The horseman adjusted his heavy leather vest and glanced at Kala before speaking.
“You may call me Meridian.”

Author Notes This is chapter two of the ongoing saga, "Firstborn." The opening chapter can be read from my portfolio.
It's far too long to post every chapter, and I don't believe it would be conducive to this site. I'll try to put it into sequence so that it will still appear as a flowing story. Difficult - due to the great spans of time the main characters have manage to survive.
Cheers - MD


Chapter 3
Firstborn

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

"I'll pray for ya' safety, lass, although I think my trust would be better placed in your new companion." Allan tapped Kala's face with rough fingertips and wiped his eyes as if the sun's glare had suddenly caused them to water.

Kala thanked him, hugging him until he became uncomfortable, which made her laugh.

Robert was beside himself. The idea that she would leave them; leave him! He had pulled her from the water in the cave and had watched over her all night when--it was too much. He stood stoically as she thanked him, kissing his cheek and pulling his blonde hair away from his tanned face. He shook with pain and anger.

“Youth,” Allan said, and winked at her. He wrapped a beefy arm around Robert's shoulder, and they turned back for the boat.

Meridian made an adjustment on the packs and sat quietly upon Oros. He held his hand out his hand for Kala to grasp. She hesitated only a moment before taking it and swinging up onto the big horse. She had time to turn to see her rescuers unfurling the sail. Allan raised his hand, and a moment later she saw Robert do the same. She waved back, realizing it would probably be the last time she saw them.

Meridian turned the horse toward the path, and their journey began.

*

He is mad, that's it.
Kala was thinking this as she watched him standing on the bridge of land that jutted out into the sea. 'The Giant's Knee' is what it was called by the local farmers, at least that is what he told her. She supposed that it did appear as if a giant had lain down and stuck his leg out to dip his foot into the water.

She was sitting near the fire that he had started, finishing a small bowl of soup of dried meat and vegetables, and one of the four fish that she had brought from the boat. He had put a bit of salt into the pot from one of his saddlebags and had even given her a piece of bread that was barely stale. Her stomach hurt now, but she was warm and felt better than she had the day before.

What is he doing?
The horseman walked across the bridge of land and stood for quite some time. He now sat facing the sea. The wind had to be strong out there; it was bad enough in the wash where they had made camp. The horse was near her; his hooves were as big as her head. He rolled over now and then, snorting and kicking, frightening her every time he did this. He seemed to be dozing now, head down and breathing evenly. She had tried to touch him, earlier. One snap of that head had nearly lifted her from the ground.

Kala stood and stretched, wrapping the blanket around her more tightly. It was not cold, but the wind here was constant and it made her chilled without the blanket. She walked toward the cliff, hearing the horse gaining his legs behind her. She walked up and out of the bowl-shaped camp site and headed down to where the horseman was now sitting. She had taken only a few steps out onto the leg, when he stood smoothly and turned.

"Are you going to be much longer?" She had to yell over the wind.

He didn't answer but walked across the narrow bridge toward her.

"Are you packed?" he asked as he walked past her.

"Yes. What is the name of the town that we're going to?"

"It is not a town, it's a market, as I already said."

"Alright then, market. What is it near?" she snapped.

"The wall."

"Wall?" She stopped and placed her hands on her hips, causing the blanket to flip over her head. She caught it before the wind took it, wrapped herself once more, and followed behind him fuming.

They had ridden all afternoon on the day before and camped at the bowl in the evening. Now they were moving again, covering the ground at a steady pace thanks to the horse's long strides. She sat on a folded pack and moved easily with the rhythm of the animal.

"What is his name? Your horse."

Meridian glanced back at her. "Oros."

"Oros. I've never heard that word. What does that mean?"

"Mountain."

She leaned forward to look at the side of his face. "Where are you from?"

In response, he sighed. "I do not wish to have a conversation concerning my history."

"Why are you so angry with me? Have I done some wrong to you?" Without realizing it her hands were once again on her hips.

"You have caused my plans to change."

"My apologies for being..." She stopped as she realized what she was about to say.

"For being?" he questioned.

Nothing more was said for a long while. The wind finally died down and they were now crossing a valley of sorts, although there were no mountains nearby. The land here was as if drawn and stretched, causing deep ripples in the earth. They were following one of these ripples now, heading inland. To their left, a line of trees were all bent in the same direction.

The wind, no doubt, she thought.
 
They moved up onto the top of the ridge and saw it. "What is that?" Kala asked quietly.

"Offa's Wall. The market is a short distance from this point. We should be there before nightfall."

The wall was actually not so much that as a ditch, with a wall on the Powys side. Workers toiled all along this ditch from the direction that he and Kala had come, to over the next two hills and away from the market that Meridian and herself were now walking through. She could smell the newly turned earth, reminding her of her childhood and of her parents. There were long poles driven into the ditch at its low points between hills. The market was on the upper side of the ditch, on the Mercia side. The lower side, Powys, was lower than the height of a tall man on horseback.

"Why is this being done, has another war begun?"

"Offa has his reasons," Meridian replied. "It's probably more of a show of power and influence than anything military, I will wager."

Kala harumphed. "Seems a waste of time if you ask me. Why not use all of these workers to till and plant crops, or even use them as irrigation channels, or to build outposts?"
Meridian took a moment to study her before responding.

"Observant for a woman."

Kala flared at his remark. "And damned foolish of a king. Are you one to believe that a woman knows nothing of rationality or of proper planning? Do you think that we sit at your feet and await your every command so that we might please you?"

"I want no one at my feet, woman, and what I need I can get for myself. Learn to control that temper before it gets you killed."

Kala opened her mouth to retort but stopped. She could think of nothing to say

 

*
 

The market was not much to look at; merchants and a few farmers and weavers, perhaps only a handful of others. Kala spotted a merchant hawking dyed cloth and wood carvings of animals. She picked up a carving of a dog or wolf — she couldn't tell which — and ran her fingertips over the wood. Meridian watched her from a few feet away.

"What can I trade for this?" she asked the woman.

The old woman raised her hands as if to grab the attention of the gods. "Ahhhhhh," she sighed. "I see ye' has the eye for high quality."

Kala smirked in response to the opening line.

"Powerful is that one. Strength in it! Speed too!"

"It is a simple piece of carved wood," Kala said calmly. "Please just tell me what you would take for it."

The old woman scratched at something invisible and studied Kala. "A bright copper. Yes, that should do nicely."

Kala stood still and looked into the woman's eyes. She spoke very evenly.

"I will bring the coin to you later. This will be fine, will it not?"
The old woman smiled and nodded at Kala. "O'course it will be, miss. Whenever ye can get back my way will be just fine. Take it and be safe. Now off with ye."

Kala smiled and wrapped the carving into her blanket, thanking the woman as she did so.

Meridian was speaking with the plate merchant as she came to his side. He thanked the merchant and walked back toward where Oros was being brushed and fed.

"What did you buy?" he asked offhandedly.

"You know full well what it is, you were watching me the entire time I was there."

"My question is what did you trade her? Are you hiding a pouch somewhere that I haven't seen?"

"Nosy, are you not?"

"What are you going to do with a carving, anyway?"

Kala hesitated. "It reminds me of something, that's all." She walked on.

They came to the holding stalls, where Oros greeted them with a loud snort and head shake.

"His hooves are good," the groom said. "Sound as steel, he is. He's a big one, that! Handsome as new bright silver, he is."

Meridian admired the man's tact. "I thank you," Meridian said while handing the man two pieces of silver.

The groom took them, eyes wide with the unexpected double payment. "Indeed sir. Anything else ye be needin,' ye come see me now."
The groom was showing all of his remaining teeth in his smile at Meridian's generosity.

As they walked back through the merchant area, Meridian tossed a copper to the carving woman, who waved and grinned at Kala, who once again found herself stopped, mouth open, not knowing how to respond. She was growing tired of this already. Meridian grinned.

"Why did you do that?" she asked quickly.

Meridian led Oros through the crowd, which parted at the sight of the huge horse coming toward them; or it may have been the sight of the man, perhaps both.

"I asked you," she started.

"I know well what you asked. Were you planning on returning here at some point to pay her? Why did she agree to that?"

Kala did not reply.

They continued out of the muddy track and into an open area of clean grass. Meridian adjusted the blanket and scratched Oros on his neck, causing a push from the horse that shoved him into Kala. He caught her as she stumbled, holding her hand and waist. She reddened and then squirmed, mumbling thanks under her breath as she pulled away. Meridian turned and winked at the horse, scratching his head.

She stood apart from them for a few moments longer, then turned. "People listen to me. They sometimes do as I ask, even though they know they should not."

Meridian seemed to consider this and continued to adjust the saddle bags.

"Can you not at least speak to me?"

Meridian turned to her, and again she felt the unease she had felt when he first looked upon her on the shore. She crossed her arms over her middle and fidgeted.

"You have a gift," he said. "It is a rarity and not to be used lightly, as to acquire trinkets from merchants." He stared at her face for a moment longer. She met his gaze unflinching.

"How long have you known this?"

This took Kala by surprise. "I do not know when it began."

"You're a terrible liar."

"How dare you!" she blustered.

"Calm yourself woman. As I said, that temper is going to get you killed."

"Don't threaten me!" she screamed and descended into sobbing tears. She tried to hit his face, but he caught her hand. She hit his chest repeatedly until she tired, then simply stood and cried while he held her arms.

"Hells devils woman, you are an emotional one," he said, releasing her.

This caused a sniff, and then tearful laughter from Kala.

The episode had not gone unnoticed. A group of ratty-looking men were walking toward their area. Meridian assessed them with a glance; more of Offa's mercenaries. Oros huffed and shook his huge head, snorting his displeasure at their smell.

"Best calm that stupid beast before he is on a spit over our fire," the skinny man in the middle said as he neared their position.

Meridian's response was to smash his fist into the skinny man's face. He was unconscious before he landed on the grass. Of the remaining two men, one made the mistake of walking up to Meridian's left, and behind Oros. The other moved in from the right.
Meridian reached and lightly tapped Oros on his left haunch. The reaction was instant and devastating. The horse slowly cocked that massive leg forward then unleashed the stored power all in one smooth motion. The following impact was audible and terrible. Kala cringed at the sound. The blow caught the man just above the pelvis. He sailed backwards and flailed like a doll. When he landed six or seven strides away, he rolled to his side, moaned and did not move again. The remaining mercenary stared at his friends, his mouth slightly agape. He looked at Oros and then at Meridian, and decided to flee.

Meridian stepped up to Oros and rubbed his huge head. "He didn't mean it. You're a very smart horse."


Chapter 4
Regent

By Mufasa

Meridian set about making a camp site. He lay blankets on the grass below a pair of elms that would offer shelter if it rained this evening. He stretched a large section of tanned hide between two limbs. Now the only approach to them was through Oros, who was happily munching hay only a dozen strides from them. There was no point in making a fire, they had already eaten, and the night did not feel as if it would be cold.

There was a soldier on watch at the nearby well to prevent poison or anything less lethal but no less foul from being tossed in. Kala washed her face and arms with the water, wishing for a warm bath but grateful to be even a bit cleaner. They lay a few feet apart, she now realizing that the distance they had traveled had taken a toll on her stamina. The days before that had taken their toll as well.

"Are we safe here, like this?" she asked.

"You would approach Oros in darkness?"

She considered this, and only moments later she had nearly dozed when Meridian's words woke her.

"I didn't threaten you."

"What? When?"

"Earlier. You told me to not threaten you. I did not."

She said nothing, but smiled and pulled the blanket tighter. She was soon asleep.
Meridian lay awake for quite some time, listening to the sounds of the merchants. The workers and rowdy soldiers slowly quieted as the evening progressed. Oros had finally quieted from his rolling and huffing and flinging grass and earth skyward in celebration of good weather, fresh grasses and a treat of oats and cor, or perhaps just from the joy of being a horse.
Meridian studied Kala's face, her dark hair, the angle of her jaw, and the one exposed hand that held the blanket in place. He frowned for a few moments, thinking. He soon settled and finally fell into a light sleep.

The wind woke him, or more so the smoke that was carried on it. The cooking fires were being stoked in the market, and he could already smell the scents of roasting meat and thick gruel. Meridian borrowed flame from one of them to start their own fire and had already saddled Oros when Kala rose.

"What's in the pot?"

Meridian shrugged as he replied, "Water; it should be hot by now."

"What is it for?" she asked this looking into the pot.

"I thought you might like to use it for washing or..." his voice faded as he adjusted the gear for travel. Kala stood dumbstruck.

"Well," he said without turning, "at least I know what quiets you."

She inhaled to return a volley of expletives, but then exhaled without a word, and smiled.

A few hours later found them riding through rolling, open grassland still, but now they could see forest in front of them. The lands they were crossing were familiar to Kala; she had seen the area before this day. They were riding to Offa's royal residence in Gloucester, and Meridian did not wish to be.

"What are you, exactly? I know you're a soldier, but I've seen how other soldiers look at you." Kala asked this as she pulled on her boots.
They had crossed a shallow stream a few moments ago, and Meridian did not allow Oros to do this with anyone on his back.

"How they look at me. And how is that?"

"They keep their distance from you, as if they know something that others don't. Why?"

Meridian replaced his own boots and stood. He opened a saddle bag and handed Kala an emblem; it was the Seal of Offa. Kala took the round seal resembling a large coin and studied both sides. One side held the likeness of the king, with the words Offa Rex above. The other side had symbols that she had seen before, but did not recognize. She handed the seal back to Meridian.

"What does this mean?"

He placed the seal back into the saddle bag. "It means that I am a regent, able to command any of Offa's soldiers in any area of Mercia at any time."

Kala thought for a moment. "You are a commander."

"Yes and no. I am able to command the commanders."

"So Offa holds you in high regard."

Meridian tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "Not so much me as my abilities," he responded quietly.

"What are your abilities?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

She sat still, simply looking back at him.

He blinked a few times before sighing and sitting on a boulder to face her.

"I remember things; events, information, names, dates, plans."

Kala crossed her legs and seemed to settle. "Everyone does, that doesn't explain-"

"I don't write them down," he said matter-of-factly, "yet I can repeat them word for word or redraw what I have seen on a map, exactly as it was presented, no matter the number of days that pass."

Kala held her breath. She tried to remain calm before seeming to shrug off what she had just been told. "A useful ability, to be sure," she said. She stood, so as not to give away the fact that she was now shaking. She straightened. "So, Offa employs you as a spy under the guise of regent."

Meridian bristled at this. "I do not 'seem' as regent," he said flatly. "I am so. I have commanded armies and removed kings from their positions. I have placed crowns on others heads as assuredly as you place your boots onto your feet." He stood now. "I'm no lap dog to whine and beg for favor from this madman, nor his murderous wife. I do what I must for now, but no longer. Who are you to question me?"

Kala gathered herself before she responded. "I know only what I have seen, and from the little that you have offered. This is the most that you have spoken to me since the beach." She let that sit for a moment before continuing. "It was not my intention to belittle you, only to try to understand. If you feel that I've insulted you, you have my apology."

Meridian stepped into the saddle and turned Oros toward the trail. "Fine. Let us depart; we'll reach my cottage shortly."

She took his arm and swung up onto the pad. "You have - a cottage." She ran her hand along Oros's deep, black flank. "He has a cottage." Oros glanced back at her, this caused her to sit upright. "This horse is too smart."


Chapter 5
Refuge

By Mufasa

The cottage was a stone and mortar dwelling set into the wall of a high forest cliff, nearly invisible from the main trail. There was a small stable attached to the structure, covered as well. Of course, Kala thought, smiling, he loves that horse.

Meridian pushed the door inward. "Enter," he spoke quietly.

"Thank you." Kala stepped inside, wondering why his voice had softened.

He went to a cupboard and removed a large clay jar. "We need water. There is a stream nearby, I'll return after seeing to Oros. You may start a fire if you wish. Flint and iron are there." 
He stood for a moment, staring at the table in the center of the room, before stepping outside, quietly closing the door behind him.

Kala stood with her hands on her hips and looked around. A well-built, board and stone floor with a large fire pit with a cooking bar against the back corner. She supposed it was in the corner due to the location of the structure. A normal chimney could not be built against the wall of the cliff. There were cups and plates of various fashions on the cupboard and fire pit tools for cooking.

She opened a small chest that was sitting near the one window. There were a number of parchments inside, both rolled and smoothed flat with cloth in between them. Maps of all sorts, some much older than others, some with official seals. There, between two heavy pieces of cloth, a drawing; a sketch of a woman. Kala carefully lifted the parchment, which was a lighter color than others in the chest. She studied the woman's face in the light of the window. The face was not noteworthy; beauty was there, yes. Dark hair, long and straight, but what drew the beholder's attention was her eyes. The eyes were unlike any Kala had ever seen. Large, but they were not round, they were shaped like single grains of wheat or barley. They were very dark and strange and... beautiful, she thought.
Outside, she heard Oros pawing and snorting. She put away the drawing and closed the chest, feeling as if she had seen something that she should not have seen.

Standing in the doorway now, she saw Meridian remove a large clay bowl from somewhere out of her sight. He pulled a short blade from his belt and cut around the sealed lid. Oros snorted and blustered.

"Be still you overgrown ox." He removed a handful of whatever was in the bowl and placed it in Oros's feed trough. "Happy?"

He stood and watched the horse for a few moments, patting the huge animal's back. He turned to look straight at Kala. For a moment they simply stood as each watched the other. He looked away first, retrieving the water and walking up the stone path to the cottage.

"What did you give him from the jar?"

"Grains. He loves them but it gives him the wind. That's why he is only allowed a handful at a time. It's awful."

Kala burst into laughter.

"Oh, you would not be so amused should you be near him when it occurs."

Kala laughed so hard that she was in tears. Meridian watched her for a moment, then he too was laughing.

An hour later saw a fire roaring in the corner pit, and a simple meal on the small table. The few items that had been purchased from the marketplace had been either chopped or ground and added to the pot, along with a single shank of meat. The cottage was warm and dry, and smelled delicious. They ate in silence, both savoring the moment. Kala removed the leftover stew to set in the corner of the fire pit. It would be a good breakfast tomorrow. Meridian was sitting quietly but stood and started cleaning the table.

"That isn't necessary," he said. "I can do this."

"As can I," Kala countered. "You provided transportation, protection, shelter, and food. The least that I may do is to put all of this away and tidy up."

Meridian fidgeted for a moment before setting the plates down. He mumbled about firewood and went outside. Kala smiled to herself. A short while later, the cottage was clean, and the plates put away. She stood listening; all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire. She opened the door quietly and stood in the archway. The wind moved the trees just slightly, and in the distance, she could hear water rushing over rocks. Meridian sat near Oros, watching her. Kala felt his presence and turned to where he sat. 

"What do you two talk about?"

"Things that have passed, things that are to come." Meridian nodded toward Oros. "He seems to think that he deserves more grains. Other than that--" he shrugged.

Kala laughed. "I see. How does Oros feel about traveling to Offa's royal residence?"

"He would rather not. We share that opinion."

"Must you report to him?" Kala asked. She moved nearer and sat next to him.

"Yes, I am expected. There is information to be passed. Besides that, there is something there that I need to do."

"It sounds ominous. Are you in danger from Offa?"

"Not directly, he is not to be trusted though; he is well versed in deceit and treachery. He may have good intentions, but he is above neither murder nor the assassination of his own family line."

"How do you know this? Please do not tell me that you--"

"No, Offa is not the snake in this particular hole. His wife is the viper, and she is by far more dangerous than Offa, I believe." Meridian picked up the water jar and motioned. "Come, we need more water, I'll show you to the stream."

They walked down a path surrounded by briars and bramble. Thick forest lay two steps beyond that, and shadows danced in the late sunlight.

"What is it that you must do there, other than give your report?"

"Offa is not a tyrant, but his interest is not necessarily of the good of the kingdom, as such."

"What is his interest if not to unite the land?" Kala pressed.

Meridian seemed to think for a moment before he answered, "To rule the land, all of it."

The stream was small, but fast flowing, preventing it from stagnating. There were two very large boulders that had either arrived there naturally, or someone had moved them to the perfect spot to allow for anyone to kneel retrieve water without getting their feet wet. Meridian filled the jar and sat it on one of the stones.

"If you wish, you may come here in the morning to bathe. The water is cold, but it is also deep on the back side of this stone."

"Thank you," Kala replied. "What are you?" she asked, bluntly. "I know only that you are regent, and veteran of battles--a soldier, but you are more than that. You are gracious and kind but can be vicious when called for. Most in this land-most men, are either simple and poor; farmers, merchants, or they are villainous to some extent. Some far more than others."

Meridian did not look at her when he replied.
"You shouldn't pry so much, and you should not search others closed chests uninvited."

Kala paled. She looked at her feet. "I'm sorry. I had no right, but I only wish to know who and what you are." Kala touched Meridian's arm while speaking. He tensed but said nothing.

"I find myself with a man that I know little about, in a land that I have not traveled. Can you expect that I am not at ease?"

"You do not seem ill at ease, in fact, I believe that you have been in this area before; perhaps not here, in this wood, but in the lands that we came through."

Kala again paled.

"You should learn to better control your reactions. You hide more than I."

Kala remained quiet for a few moments. Finally, she sighed and gestured with her hands.

"Yes, I have seen these lands before, long ago," she admitted. "That does not mean that I am not still afraid. There, I've said it; I'm afraid. Does that make me less?" She stood, crossing her arms.

Meridian retrieved the jar and turned back to face her. "No, but it says a great deal about you. Fear is not a malady; it can keep you alive and often does. It can also cloud your judgment, as it has done in this instance."

"What do you mean, in this instance?" she questioned.

"If you fear something in these lands, define it, but you waste your strength with your fear of me."

"You don't know what I have done," she said, her voice starting to break. "You don't know what has befallen me." Her breathing was labored, and she was shaking. "I do not fear you, as I should."

"As you should?" Meridian replied, frowning. "I don't understand."

Kala took a deep breath and fussed with her hair. "I do not fear you because you have honor. You do not speak as a soldier; neither do you speak as a regent."

"How do you know how a regent--"

"I just know!" she yelled. "All things holy, men are as simple as goats," she grumbled.

Meridian grinned.

"Do I amuse you"? she asked, shaking her head.

"Yes," he replied, still grinning, "you do." He walked by her and headed back up the trail. She quickly caught up to him.

"Fear is far different than cowardice, Kala." He glanced at her.

"I know this."

"If you know this, then why do you see yourself as less for harboring fear?"

Kala did not respond. They reached the end of the trail and could now see the cottage. Oros spotted them. He snorted and shook his head.

"How do you know that it isn't cowardice?" she asked.

He stopped her and looked at her squarely. "Because there is no cowardice in you." He walked on, leaving her standing on the entry stones.


Chapter 6
Marina

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Meridian honed the edge of the blade; the long sword that he kept sheathed between his shoulders. He inspected his work and cleaned the blade again. He then began the same process on one of his shorter knives which were the length of his forearm. 
Kala watched him work from where she was curled into a ball in front of the fire pit. Meridian had given her several furs to pad the stone floor and another blanket for cover. She was quite comfortable now and fighting to stay awake.
 
“You never answered my question,” she said stifling a yawn.
 
“Which one would that be,” he asked, still working on the short blade.
 
“What are you?” 
 
He ceased with the blade and set the stone and leather on the table, wiped his hands on his pants, and turned his stool to face her. “You said that you do not fear me, is that not enough?”
 
“Can I not be curious? Do you not wish to learn that which you do not know?”
 
“Some things,” he replied. “Some–I would rather have never learned.”
 
“But is it not the individual who must decide that? Allen said that you are no highwayman or any other sort of lout, but a soldier, and a seasoned one at that. How did he know this? Was it your armor? Your horse or sword perhaps? No, Allen saw you for what you are. My question is what more?” 
 
Meridian looked at her as she spoke, unblinking. “It seems I'm not alone in some of my abilities.” 
 
“I–I don't understand what you mean.” She pulled the blanket closer.
 
“How long have you been able to perfectly repeat words that were spoken days earlier, spoken only once, and in a tense situation?” 
 
Kala froze. 
 
“And while you think on that you can also answer my other question, and truthfully this time. Tell me how long you have been able to make people do your bidding, or at least change their minds?” 
 
Kala sighed, sat up, and pulled the blanket around her. “Many years,” she said quietly.
 
“How many?”
 
“I don't know!”
 
“Please don't lie to me; I have done nothing that would warrant that from you.”
 
“No, you simply offer nothing and expect openness.”
 
Meridian studied her for a moment, then went to the wooden chest and carefully removed a parchment. He gently laid it on the table next to the blades, removed the thin cloth, and placed the two candles near it. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and steady.
 
“Her name was Marina.” He sat without looking at Kala, who stood and came to the table. She looked at the sketch once more. The woman, Marina, had a cross at her neck. It was of Spanish design, with filigree work and a stone in the center.
 
Kala had not noticed this when she first saw the sketch. “She is beautiful. Marina, that is Spanish, is it not?”
 
“Yes, it is Spanish.” Meridian breathed in, then out. “She was a gift.” 
 
Kala stood upright and frowned. “What?”  
 
“You wanted information, did you not?”
 
“I did not consider that you took women as... gifts,” she said stiffly.
 
“She was taken from Spain after losing her parents to some sort of fever.” 
 
Kala crossed her arms. “Taken? Taken by whom?”
 
“The nuns that accompany the armies of a crusading king.”
 
“Carolus Magnus,” Kala whispered. “Charlemagne.”
 
Meridian nodded. “She was taken to Charlemagne's seat of power, in Aachen. She was there for only a year or so when Offa struck an alliance with him, or vice versa. No one seems to be certain. Either way, they agreed they needed one another to maintain their crowns.” He brushed a moth away from the drawing. “Charlemagne then gifted Marina to Offa; she was nineteen years at that time. She remained in Offa's service for a year before she was gifted once more.”
 
“To you. For your services to Offa, no doubt.” Kala let the contempt roll through her voice.
 
“Offa’s wife would have harmed her had I not accepted her, or she would have been removed from the inner household and placed into service at a barracks. Would you have preferred that I had allowed that?” Meridian's voice held anger, but not so much for Kala. “She lived with me. She was free to leave. She had but to ask, and I would have seen her safely to any point.” 
He traced the face of the woman in the drawing. “She stayed.”
 
Kala sat straighter. “That was... seven years ago that Charlemagne invaded Spain, yes?”
 
“Yes, about seven years.”
 
“May I ask–”
 
“She died. She took some illness; her stomach pained her for days, then fever." Meridian's voice shook. "She died.” 
 
Kala took a deep breath. “I am sorry. She was beautiful–this woman of Spain.”
 
Again, the nod from Meridian. “A year and a month; that's how long it has been.” He answered before she could ask. “It is as if it happened yesterday.” 
 
Kala's breath caught at this. 
 
“She is buried nearby, on a hilltop. She would sit on that hill and watch and listen. She told me that much could be learned by simply being still.” He sat quietly for a few moments. 
 
Kala watched him, remaining silent. 
 
“She has proven to have been wise for one so very young,” Meridian seemingly said this to himself.
 
Kala sat back down near the fire. “I didn't mean to bring forth an unpleasant memory. I am sorry for that.”
 
“Only the last was unpleasant.”
 
“You said the queen would have harmed her–why?”
 
“Because Marina held a strange beauty, and that spiteful bitch hated her for it.”
 
“The queen, Cynethryth?” 
 
Meridian nodded. “She had been attempting to convince Offa from the moment that she first saw Marina to remove her from the residence; Offa refused. I believe that he fancied her but feared that Cynethryth would slip one of her adders into his bed some night. She is a treacherous bitch.”
 
“So, he pretended to offer her to you as a gift, also seeking your further allegiance in return?”
 
“I don't know. Perhaps he simply feared the–”
 
“Treacherous bitch,” Kala finished. 
 
“But she stayed with me, until she was gone.” 
 
 Kala watched him as he gazed at the sketch. “She loved you, that is apparent.” 
 
Meridian stood and placed the drawing back in between the two cloths and then carefully placed it back into the chest. “Yes, I know.” He closed the lid. “You should rest,” he said. “Tomorrow will be here sooner than I would like. Gloucester is a two-day ride at an easy pace, with a burh in between.”
 
“An outpost?”
 
“Yes. The market there is much larger than the previous one. Perhaps you can further hone your bartering skills.” 
 
She smiled at this. “Perhaps. And perhaps we can talk more upon–things.”
 
His turn to smile. “I have something to attend to. I will not be long, or far away.” He felt her eyes upon his back as he left, but did not turn.
 
*

  
Meridian made his way through the forest. The trail was noticeable only to a trained eye, and even then, it was difficult to recognize. He stopped long enough to gather honeysuckle vines, and he now worked them into a small wreath of sorts. He stopped again before the clearing and cut a few wildflowers, adding them into the gift. He stepped out into the clearing and stood quite still, sighed, then started up the hill.
 
The stone was crudely carved, or so it appeared from all sides but the front. A Spanish cross had been wrought into the stone's face, its lines smooth and clean. Meridian knelt, removed the withered wreath from around the stone, and placed the new one over the marker. He spoke in an ancient language, touching the stone as he did so, and running his fingertips over the carving. He sat and listened to the wind and to the forest. He sat and endured the pain of remembrance.
 
Kala had dozed by the time he returned to the cottage. She heard him, of course. She adjusted her position and was soon fast asleep once again. Meridian looked at her face for a few moments, and finally shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. He laid a crumbling wreath on the low fire, and watched as the flames turned the dried vines and flowers to smoke and ash. Soon sleep, in all its mercy, was upon him as well.


Chapter 7
The Outpost

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

The outpost was designed so that it funneled both the arrival as well as the departure of anyone entering or exiting the enclave. This made it easier for the soldiers to observe the comings and goings, and take note or detain anyone that seemed out of sorts. It also made the burh more difficult to attack. A stream ran behind the outpost, not deep enough to allow any but the smallest of boat or raft. The stream, like most in this area, was dotted with huge boulders as well. Difficult to approach on horseback and impossible to draw a cart through. One way in–one way out.
Meridian did not like being in here. The market was indeed much larger than the last, Kala noted right away. There were merchants hawking all sorts of useful items as well as food. Oros was stabled nearby, and Meridian was leading them through the maze that was formed by the vendors and craftsman. A blacksmith pinged away at a helm, removing dents. A rope maker was busy braiding, and there were several horses being shod and tended to in a small corral. They would be toyish if they were to stand in Oros’s shadow, she thought to herself.
 
Meridian stopped at a leather worker stall. “I'll do business with this one. You may look about if you wish. Try to keep me in your sight. It's safe–most of the time, but you are–” he paused, “you are a woman, after all.” He handed her a few coins. “For food stuff or other needs you may have.”
 
“That isn't what you intended to say,” Kala smirked.
 
“You attract attention. Happy? Please just watch your surroundings and do not–oh hells devils woman, just be careful.”
 
She thanked him for the coins, still grinning as she bounced away.
 
“And stop grinning,” he yelled at her. “it makes you look addled.”
 
He began his business with the leather shop. Kala walked through the market. The smells of roasting meats and simmering pots made her mouth water. She stopped at a vendor that was baking bread in a stone oven. It smelled heavenly. She bought two loaves and had them wrapped in loosely-spun cloth. The breads were very expensive; two copper pennies each, unheard of. She found a wine sop and after sampling three of the four that were offered, purchased a skin. She tore off a small piece and nibbled as she wandered, now and then looking behind her to make sure she could either see or at least shout and be heard by Meridian. He seemed to be quite intent on his business.
 
She looked around, taking in all the area in a sweeping glance. There, just to her left was something that caught her eye and held it. A bow maker. Kala forgot to chew, remembering only when a large woman carrying a basket walked by and told her that a bug was going to settle in her mouth if she didn't close it. Kala ate the remaining handful of bread and walked to the bow maker's stall. 
There were two men under the canvas, actually an older man and a young boy, perhaps just in his early teens. The boy spotted her and dropped the tool he was holding, prompting a glare from the elder.
 
“Does something vex you, Rolf?”
 
Young Rolf quickly retrieved the tool and patted the elder man on the arm. He pointed toward Kala when then man looked up from his work.
 
“Well! Look at this!” the man said brightly, “A princess has come to spy our wares, Rolf!”
 
Kala groaned inwardly, but stepped into the work area. “May I see some of your work, sir?” 
 
The elder man looked at her oddly. “Work? You... you wish to see our bows, my lady?” 
 
“Yes, if you please,” Kala said politely.
 
“Uh, if I may lass, might I ask what you'd be askin' such a thing for?”
 
“Sir, what is your name?”
 
“Rolf, lass–my name is Rolf. That wide-eyed goof just there is Rolf junior.”
 
“Excellent,” Kala returned. “Your bows look to be very well made, and I am trained to use one–well trained.”
 
Again, the man studied her. “Rolf my boy, bring a few of the yews for us, if you will. The shorter of the lot, not the long draws, and never mind the bone.”
 
“Bring the bone as well, Rolf,” Kala responded.
 
Rolf junior took his turn to simply stare at Kala. Rolf senior nodded and motioned. Within a few moments, Kala had several short-draw bows designed for smaller men. She held each as if she had an intimate knowledge of the weapon. She indeed did have such knowledge.
 
“The yew and bone, how old are they?” Kala asked.
 
“Well, that one there is no virgin, beg to pardon myself lass, and this one–” Rolf said, holding a wonderfully designed bow with inlaid bone reinforcement at the handle points, “she's a young lass, and a thing o' beauty and grace, just as yerself!”
 
Kala smiled and took the “young lass” from the bow maker. She turned it over and inspected every part of the weapon. She placed one end of the bow on her boot toe, and leaned the body against her own, measuring. Perfect.
 
Rolf senior glanced at the junior and winked.
 
“Is there somewhere I could try this one?”
 
The elder looked about then motioned Kala to come with him. He walked a few steps back into the covered area and lifted a canvas. Fifty paces or so back, there was a hay wall with three targets hanging in front of it. Two black and a red. The red was small, no larger than a mans head.
 
“Come on lass, let's see that draw.”
 
Rolf junior handed her three arrows. Kala inspected them, then nocked one onto the string.
 
“Hold, hold, hold.” The elder Rolf opened a sack and rummaged a bit, bringing forth a guard that had seen far better days. He held her arm and laced it. "It'll strip the skin right off of ya' if ya' let fly a bit off.''
 
Kala drew the bow back several times, using four of her fingers, then three, and finally two. The bow, she learned, was too new to allow her to draw it comfortably using only two of her fingers. 
 
“Did you fashion the arrows as well?” she asked.
 
“Indeed I did, lass. Pointless to stick a skunks arse into a fine wine.” 
 
Kala smiled. She nocked the arrow again, looking down range at the targets. She could not overhead draw because of the low canvas, so she had to side draw, arching her left arm left while also drawing back the powerful bow. It drew beautifully, the wood creaking only slightly, as it should. She held the arrow nock to the right corner of her mouth, both eyes open. Kala sighted only for a moment, and released. The bow did not hum, it simply expended its stored power. The arrow impacted the black, wooden target only inches from center. Kala adjusted her grip slightly and nocked the next arrow. Release. The small, red, target snapped to and fro from the impact, coming back to rest with an arrow imbedded near the center. She looked at the bow and smiled.
 
“Beautiful, master bow maker; a song in a storm.”
 
The bow maker looked a bit stunned, but managed to find his voice after a moment. “I–I am honored by a master such as yourself, my lady. I am honored, indeed.” 
 
“Your price for the young lass?”
 
"How about you tend to my wash instead, and leave warring and soldiering to soldiers.” This was slurred out of a fat mercenary that was now standing at the stall entry behind them. “What does such a young, handsome, girl need of such a dangerous weapon?” he asked, slinging wine from a cup as he gestured. “Come have a cup with me and I'll tell you stories of my bravery in battle.”
 
Kala turned back to the bow maker. “Price, sir Rolf.”
 
Rolf junior giggled. “She called you sir Rolf, father.”
 
“Be still son. Lass, are you here with escort?” senior asked.
 
“Ha! She is the escort! My escort,” the fat drunk bawled out, spilling more wine.
 
He took a single step toward Kala, reaching for her as he did so. Kala inhaled, turned and slammed the heel of her palm into the drunk's nose. The man fell backward onto a table, throwing tools and wooden staves everywhere. Stepping over the drunk, she laid the bow into Rolf senior's hands.
 
“Hold it for me, will you?”
 
“Run lass. We'll hold the bloody bow. Now run!”
 
Kala grabbed her wine skin and the cloth of bread, jumped over the mercenary, exited the stall, and ran. She turned right and headed through the crowd toward the leather worker stall toward Meridian. She rounded a corner and saw him standing near the stall where she had left him. He was adjusting a heavy belt and the leather worker was making marks on it with a scribe. She sighed and walked the rest of the way there.
 
Meridian looked up and spotted her. He nodded at her approach, but Kala saw his eyes go wide, and he bolted toward her position. Kala turned and saw the drunk mercenary stumbling toward her, nearly upon her now. She spun out of his grasp and swung her fist in a backward arc toward his face, but he stumbled after missing her, and her fist only glanced from his big head, hurting her hand. She was off balance now, and fell backwards into the passers-by. The drunk reached her and grabbed her shirt. Kala hit him in his face three times in rapid succession. The drunk yelled something and slapped her. Kala fell to the dirt, stunned.
 
The mercenary bent to reach for her, but was brought upright by a foot to his face. Meridian caught the drunk square on the chin with his boot. The man's head snapped backwards, and he buckled on the ground near Kala. Meridian knelt and brushed the hair from her face, lifting her head from the ground.
 
“Kala, can you hear me? Kala, are you hurt?”
 
She sat upright and tried to stand. Meridian helped her up as she brushed herself off then felt her face. She opened her mouth and blood ran from it. Meridian flared. He lifted the mercenary's head up and smashed his fist into the man's face, driving his head back onto the ground.
 
“Bastard,” he said in disgust.
 
 
Kala worked her jaw back and forth a few times. “I'm not hurt, not badly.”
 
The crowd parted as soldiers approached, led by a local commander.
 
“Ahh, regent.” the commander said with a sigh. “I see you still take pleasure in pummeling my troops.”
 
“He is fortunate that I don't cut his fat throat. Do you claim this swine?”
 
The commander sighed again. “As much as it sickens me, yes.”
 
“He is no longer under your payment,” Meridian said sternly. “He is removed from your service. He is removed from this outpost as well, before nightfall, or his head will be removed by me. Is there issue with that order?”
 
“None, regent.” The commander bowed and motioned for the man to be dragged away. Meridian placed his arm at Kala's waist, and they walked to a nearby stall where he placed a stool at her feet.
 
“Sit,” he told her. She sat. He went into the stall and came out with a cup of water and a cloth. “Clean out your mouth, and do not swallow the water.”
 
Kala rinsed her mouth and spit the water out. Meridian held her face in his hand and gently manipulated her jaw.
 
“Open.”
 
She opened. He looked into her mouth and seemed satisfied.
 
“At least the bastard didn't break your jaw. That would have been–”
 
“Inconvenient?” she finished.
 
Meridian frowned at her. “Bad,” he retorted. “Why are you smiling?”
 
Kala stood. “Because this is the first time that you have called me by my name.”
 
They returned to the bow maker, Kala now with a good portion of one side of her face covered in a red hand print. She looked far better than the person that had given her that mark.
 
“Ah! Our lady is well!” Rolf senior bellowed, reaching to hug Kala. She allowed him to do this, even giving him a return embrace. “Our Lord is good,” he said. “Not a bad bit o’ luck having a regent to watch over you either,” he added, looking at Meridian.
 
“Sir.” Meridian nodded, “I understand you have an item that she is interested in.”
 
The bow maker stood straighter. “Indeed we do, regent; a masterpiece that has chosen her for a purpose only known to it, or 'her' I should say.” He offered the bow to Meridian. “This,” he said nodding to the bow proudly, “is ‘Young Lass’.”
 
Meridian took the bow, held it on his foot, and then pulled the string back a few times. “You can draw this?” he asked Kala.
 
“Draw it, and knock the arse out of a rat at fifty paces, she can!” This was offered by Rolf junior, who received stares from all three of the other occupants of the stall.
 
“Aye,” Rolf senior said, “she did just that!” He grabbed his sons head and held it in a beefy arm, messing Rolf junior’s hair.
 
Meridian handed Kala the the bow. She took it and started to speak.
 
“You will need it,” he said, and turned to the bow maker. “She'll need a quiver and arrows. Add another string as well. Let her choose what she wants.” Meridian said this still looking at Kala, who now blushed so that she could feel the heat above the pain on her face.
 
Rolf senior gathered the gear together and rolled everything into a blanket. He tied it tight and presented it to her with his head bowed.
“Again–you have honored us, my lady.”
 
“I am honored as well, sirs.” She winked at young Rolf and smiled. He glowed in response. After paymemt was made, Meridian shook the elder's hand and thanked him. Rolf senior bowed and said farewell to each of them. The travellers exited the stall, and the bow makers looked at each other and smiled at the same time, and began laughing and mock-fighting. “Lad, this is the sort of day that makes the hard work worthwhile. Remember this.”
 
Rolf junior nodded, still smiling.
 
*
 
Kala was giddy. She held the wrapped items as if she carried a newborn. They walked to the far end of the market, toward the military area.
 
“I cannot pay you for these things, at least not at this time.”
 
Meridian remained silent.
 
She pulled him to a stop and faced him. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for everything.” She stood on her toes, and kissed his cheek.
 
He stood frozen, staring straight ahead. The same large woman carrying the basket walked by them again, patting Kala's back as she passed and nodding her approval of Meridian. He shook himself, looked down at Kala, and managed to speak. “You're welcome, but we haven't completed the task.”
 
“What do you mean,” she replied.
 
Meridian led her to the last stall in the market, intentionally placed here to draw everyone through the prior stalls and vendors to reach this point: The sword smith.
 
“A sword smith. How do you know that I am familiar with a sword?’
 
“Are you?”
 
“Of course; not to your degree, mind you.”
 
“Now I know.” He grinned.
 
Within the hour, Kala had chosen–with Meridian’s input–a pair of short, curved blades; single-edged with a smaller tang and grip. The item that Kala was so stunned by though, was the sword. It was a straight blade, nearly half the length of Kala’s body. It was double-edged and thin compared to the clunky, rough, blades that most soldiers carried. The base of the blade was nearly twice as thick at the cage hand guard, balancing the weapon. It was also newly-born.
 
“This is too much, I cannot–”
 
“Take them and use them for what they are meant for. You are no waif or cowering girl to be coddled and cooed over. You are a fighter, and I suspect a damned good one. If not, you shall be.”
 
“I–”
 
“Gather your gear; we must be away from here before nightfall.”
 
Meridian took the sword and knives, as well as the scabbard and sheaths. Kala still held the bow and gear in her arms. He snagged the wine skin on the sword grip and placed the bread cloth on Kala’s bundle, then headed to retrieve Oros. When they reached the stall, Kala went in with no hesitation and greeted Oros. Meridian started to warn her, but simply stood watching as the massive horse snorted and came to her. He pushed her with that huge head, not roughly, but enough to make her catch her balance. She kissed Oros on his nose and led him from the stall, soldiers and stall tender watching open-mouthed.
 
She grinned as she passed. “Ready?”
 
Meridian glared at the onlookers, who suddenly had other places to be.
 
“Ready,” he replied, shaking his head.


Chapter 8
Gifts and Lessons - continued

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

A few miles from the outpost, Meridian took them across a field and to the edge of a grove of apple trees. A stream ran nearby, and the ground held fallen fruit. Oros pawed, knowing what was just ahead of them. They removed their gear and saddle from the horse's back.
 
“Step back,” he told Kala, pulling her shirt.
 
Oros raised his head and bucked and kicked a few times before settling, and started crunching apples.
 
“I have to stop him; he'll eat until he makes himself sick.”
 
Kala laughed, and together they watched Oros until Meridian took the bridle in hand. 
 
“Enough for now, you pig.” He tied him so that his head was above the ground and he could not yank himself free, then pointed. “Your sword, bring it.” Meridian unsheathed his own sword from its scabbard and walked toward the stream. “You knives as well.”
 
Kala's heart skipped a beat.
 
An hour later, Kala was soaked with sweat, and breathing heavily. Her hair was in her face, and her shirt was torn. She held her sword shakily, and her right forearm was numb.
 
“What did I teach you?”
 
Kala lowered her sword and took a deep breath. “One, keep them at a distance for as long as I can. Two, move. Three, don't get cut, and move. Four, any fool can prevent themselves from being stabbed - again, move. Five, do as much damage as I can, as quickly as I can, and move. Six, be alive at the end of the fight.”
 
“Seven?” he asked.
 
She took another breath. “Seven, the fight is not over until one of us is dead, or yields.”
 
“And?” he added, pointing with his knife to the tear in her shirt.
 
“And do not take my eyes from an enemy–ever, until he is dead or can no longer harm me.”
 
Meridian nodded. “Good. Sit and rest. The water is clean here.”
 
Kala dropped her arm and collapsed to the ground. Meridian went to the gear and removed a small gear bag that he had brought from the market. He sat it on the ground beside her.
 
“Get cleaned up; I'll stand guard. The bag is for you.”
 
“What is this?” 
 
He looked back over his shoulder. “Things you need.”
 
She sat for a few moments, rubbing her arm before opening the bag. She gasped at what she saw, and smiled.
 
 
*
 
Oros had been saddled and their gear was tied off and ready to travel. Kala hid behind a wide growth of honeysuckle. 
 
“We need to be away,” Meridian said with impatience. “You're wasting time.”
 
“I look foolish,” she grumbled, still hiding.
 
“Kala, the clothes you were wearing are ruined. The ones you have now better suit your needs.”
 
“My needs, or yours?” She stepped from behind the honeysuckle.
 
Meridian's eyes went wide. Kala was now wearing the dark leather breeches and a white cloth shirt. She wore the bodice as well; forest green, full length, padded, and cut to drape over a saddle. She also had new boots; calf-high, with lacing that wrapped them tight to her long legs. A pair of soft, leather, gloves now covered her small hands.
 
“Laugh, and I will see if my knife is balanced for throwing.” She stood stiffly, and fidgeted.
 
Meridian walked near. “You look better now, more suited for travel, and a fight if need be. Those worn out breeches had to be making your rear end sore.”
 
Kala loosened a bit.
 
“Get your gear, we need to move. Your sword will feel better on your back now, and you will be less likely to be injured in a scuffle.”
 
“Scuffle? Is that what happened at the marketplace?”
 
“Yes,” he replied, smirking. He watched her as she settled into the saddle, and something inside of him awoke and stirred to life.
 
 
*
 
Half a day later saw them at the first bridge leading into Gloucester. It was one of four that crossed the river in this area, and it was quite busy with traffic. They stopped a good distance from the bridge.
 
“Offa’s Royal Residence; it must be treated as if it is his castle, because he sees it as such. Oh, he is easy enough to appease, but you must remember you will be under close scrutiny from the moment that you step into the residence. All will note your presence; all will be watching. Do not let that temper get us both thrown into a cell. Agreed?” Meridian delivered this looking straight into her eyes.
 
“Yes, agreed,” she replied. “What do I do when we are there?”
 
“You don't have to face Offa, or the–”
 
“Treacherous bitch,” Kala finished.
 
Meridian nodded. “Correct. You may even have a hot bath if you would like, and have your hair washed with scented soaps and perfumes.” 
 
“Again–for you, or for myself?” she smirked.
 
Meridian returned her smirk.
 
“Why will I be so scrutinized?”
 
He wrapped all of her weapons into the blankets and tied them off. “Because of me. You will be noticed because of me.”
 
Kala started to ask further, but thought better of it. She had several explanations spinning in her head already. She was certain that by the time they departed the Royal Residence she would have several more.
 
“I will deliver my report as quickly as possible, and I may be forced to drink a cup or two with Offa. I may also be invited to dine with him this eve. Cynethryth does not care for my... presence, and Offa knows this. If she's in the chamber, it shall be a short visit.”
 
Kala acknowledged this. “Why does the...” she paused, “Cynethryth not take to you?”
 
“Several reasons, not the least of which is that I don't consider her above me in position. She sees all others as beneath her with the exception of the church, and I have my doubts there as well.”
 
“And what else?” Kala prodded.
 
Meridian took a long moment before responding. When he finally did his voice was a maelstrom of strong emotions, all rushing forth on a single name: "Marina."


Chapter 9
Honor and Treachery

By Mufasa

Men will never be free until the last king is strangled with the entrails of the last priest 
-Diderot
 
 
King Offa's royal residence was in no way, a palace. The structure was two stories, in the shape of a square with inner courtyards. The grounds were well tended, and seemed to hold every flower that could grow in this region. Fruit trees were producing their fruits, and bees busied themselves with the producing of honey in the many hives that were set in the far corners of the grounds.
Pikemen stood guard along the short bridge that led into the main entrance to the residence.
 
Useless. Meridian thought this to himself. A herd of cattle would be better protection.
 
The captain recognized Meridian as he approached and lifted his hand in salute.
 
“Good to see once more, regent. Your visits are always good for at least a week's worth of gossip and whispers.”
 
“Glad to be of worth, Captain. Do you not have stalls to muck out?”
 
Kala tensed.
 
Meridian now stood nose to nose with the larger man. They stayed this way for a moment or two, then both laughed and patted one another on the back.
 
Kala exhaled.
 
“You stay away too long, though there is little changed to speak of. Gods! Who is this sharp thorn that you have brought to pierce my heart?”
 
Kala shrank back. Meridian winked at her and nodded for her to come forward.
 
“Captain William Othen, may I present Kala... Redway of … Whitehaven,” Meridian stumbled the names and location out, but Othen did not take notice as he reached for Kala's hand.
 
Meridian barely had time to glare at her to prevent Kala from punching Othen.
 
Othen bowed and kissed her hand, then snapped to attention after straightening. “Milady, such a flower shames the others in the king's gardens.”
 
Meridian rolled his eyes. “Strange–I was hungry only a moment ago, yet now I feel somewhat nauseous.”
 
“Oh do be a good man and stable that mountain you call a horse, or that horse you have named Mountain, and I shall escort Lady Kala to the baths to see that she is made comfortable.”
 
“Not likely,” Kala replied, “and also not necessary. I can smell the soap from here; easy enough to follow my own nose.”
 
Othen seemed stunned. “Oh, I like her already!” He burst into laughter. “Go! I will have your rooms readied while you stable that ox. I'll see you both this evening. Good to see you again, my friend.”
 
Meridian laid his hand on the captain’s shoulder. “You as well, Captain Othen. You as well.”
 
Othen bowed to Kala once more. “Until this evening, milady.”
 
Kala responded with a stern, “Captain,” and a nod.
 
*
 
Gloucester itself was more of a large buhr than a town, with the village and markets on the inside of the fortification ditches and stockade walls. Offa's Residence was simply built; and nearly identical to the one in Tam worth, Offa's true seat of power. He chose to have a small residence in the southern part of Mercia to allow himself and his queen a comfortable place to reside while making his appearances and carrying on with official business in the area.
 
Meridian sincerely hoped that Cynethryth was not in residence; he was not primed for a confrontation with her, especially with Kala here. The stable master welcomed him and approached Oros with necessary caution, testing his mood. Meridian handed the man a bag of the apples from the riverside trees. Oros perked his ears and followed the stable master back into a clean slot.
 
“Two or three–no more, and again, do not brush his haunches unless you wish your back wall removed.”
 
The man replied laughing and nodding his head in agreement. “Aye, regent. I do indeed remember that bit of wisdom.”
 
Kala patted the horse on his neck and told him to be good. Meridian shook his head and headed back to the court-yard. Once there, three maids and an escort waited to welcome them. The maids led both he and Kala into a large room, and offered them water, wine, and fruit. Kala declined the wine, but did take a pear and water. Meridian drank a cup of wine in three gulps and also took a pear.
 
She looked at him flatly. “Nervous?” 
 
“I dread this,” he replied sourly. “Tell the maids that you wish a bath, if you like. It would be wise to stay in the inner yards unless a guard accompanies you on a walk outside the residence. There are always brigands and cut-purses about. Keep your wits about you, and try not to attack anyone. I'll return as soon as I am able.”
 
He winked, drank another cup of the wine, finished the pear, then a cup of water. He sighed and made adjustments to his belt and shirt, not removing his sword nor his shorter blades, then walked with the guard to King Offa's appearance chamber.
 
“Well,” Kala said to no one, “perhaps a hot bath will be very nice.”
 
Two of the maids bowed slightly, directing her through an arched doorway. Kala followed her nose.
 
 
*
 
Offa's throne was not so much throne as chair, and not an ornate chair at that. It sat in the back-center of the large room, lighted by fire stands and three large windows on one side of the room. There were benches and several chairs and stools as well, all well-made, some covered in hides and cushions.
 
To make them softer for their Royal Bottoms, Meridian thought.
 
The main room held guards in several locations; they watched Meridian now – some of them offering a slight nod to him in recognition. The ones that knew him respected him. The ones that did not know him knew better than to not respect him.
The rear door opened admitting two more guards armed with swords and shields, King Offa followed behind them – and as Meridian feared – Cynethryth as well.
 
Seven hells and all their gatekeepers, why the bloody hell did she have to be here?
 
King Offa's face lit up as he approached Meridian, who pushed back his sword hilt and made a respectful bow. He would make one, no more than that.
 
“Oh enough of that,” Offa waved his hands as he came to Meridian and clasped his shoulders. “It is good to see you my friend, very good!”
 
“Sire, as it is the same to see you.” Meridian turned his head only slightly toward Cynethryth. “Majesty,” he said coolly.
 
The queen held steady with both her emotions and her voice, but her eyes burned disdain toward Meridian. “Regent,” was her only response.
 
“Come, come, come,” Offa said. “Sit and let us not be so bloody formal. I grow weary of these officials and their incessant complaints and sniveling.”
 
Cynethryth sniffed at the king's comment, obviously of the belief that there were none above their position; not hers, at least.
 
“Are you well? It seems long since we have spoken, but I know that it isn't so. Over a month, is it not?” The king asked this in a strange manner, as if he truly had lost all sense of time.
 
“Yes, sire, it's been just over a month. I understand that time does seem to pass either more quickly or more slowly, dependent upon the situation. It is this way for all men, it would seem.”
 
Meridian felt Cynethryth's eyes upon him.
 
“Indeed, my friend. It seems that the affairs of the kingdom takes all my time these days, and they all seem as a stream passing by me, yet there is no time to sit with my feet in the water; no time to speak of what was or what might have been.”
 
“You could always give up the crown and become a poet, sire.” Meridian raised one eyebrow and smirked.
 
Offa stared for a moment before he burst out laughing. Meridian laughed a bit as well. The queen, however, was not amused; not at all.
 
“Perhaps a stable muck, or rope maker would suit you better, sire? Of course, the entire kingdom would soon collapse into ruin without your guidance, and we would be invaded by barbarians, but you would then have ample time to... dangle your feet in streams.”
 
Offa seemed stung by her words. “Of course, you are right my queen–as always. I am merely rambling as I am sometimes want to do.”
The king smiled at her and patted her hands. Cynethryth offered a cold smile that Offa evidently saw as true. Meridian saw it for something entirely different.
 
Offa stood, and patted Meridian's shoulder as he also rose. The queen remained seated.
 
“Let us walk a bit. My dear, please excuse us.”
 
Again, the cold smile and nod in both their directions. As they walked from the chamber, Cynethryth opened her ever present jar of poison.
 
“A moment, sir.”
 
Meridian's blood chilled. He turned at the door to face Cynethryth.
 
“I was wondering if you might have kept any of the jewels that you purchased for–what was that girls name? It always escapes me.”
 
Meridian's jaws clenched. The bitch had actually placed emphasis on was. He could feel his hatred clawing through his insides, it screamed for her bloodshed. He could clearly see the life drain from her as he slowly twisted her head around on her skinny, white neck, but it did not appear on his face nor arise in his next words.
 
“Yes, Queen Cynethryth, in fact I have retained them all.”
 
“Excellent,” she said blandly. “Some were really quite magnificent if I recall, and I do recall quite well.”
 
Slowly stepping away from the doorway, never removing his eyes from hers–never blinking, Meridian turned.
 
“I have great doubt that any item that I gifted to Marina would seem appropriate for you, Queen Cynethryth. I am certain that you will recall that Marina held quite a bit more color than do you; they would not befit one so pale of skin as yourself. Also, both the necklaces as well as the bracelets would need to be sized again, and that I fear, would loosen their fittings to be stretched to that great distance.”
 
Cynethryth was no longer pale, she now looked as if she had been sitting for too long in the sun, and she twitched very slightly at the corners of her small, painted, mouth.
 
“I also hold them dear,” Meridian spoke slowly, deliberately, “along with those memories of a perfect woman. They are, after all, all that remain with me of Marina, a woman that held my heart as you hold your crown–as if nothing of higher import, or any greater treasure could ever exist.” He then bowed only slightly, turned, and went through the arched doorway.
 
The queen shook with rage, and flung a goblet against the far wall, glaring at the main doorway in a fashion most unlike that of a queen.
 
*
 
King Offa led Meridian to a fountain in the sunlit center of the inner courtyard. They walked around the stone fountain, which was a bit of a tradition when conversing here. In theory, the sound of the water soothed the nerves and focused the participants upon the issues at hand. Meridian’s nerves were anything but soothed; he very much wanted to remove Cynethryth's heart through her hateful mouth. He doubted that he would be able to locate the organ in the icy vessel that held it. Still-- 
 
"She dislikes you," Offa said. "That is well known. Do not let that trouble your sleep. I doubt that it will.”
 
Meridian shook himself and gathered his emotions, tying them in a tight bundle. “It is her right, sire. She is Queen of Mercia,” Meridian replied coldly.
 
Offa sat on a heavy wooden bench facing the sun, and motioned for Meridian to do the same. “Tell me Meridian, what news for me?” 
 
“Should a skilled archer wish it, your bridge guards would be dead in less than three beats of her… his heart. All of them should be armed not only with pike, but with sword and heavy shield. A herd of cattle would be more effective at stopping a crossing there.”
 
Offa grinned. “It will be done. Now, what troubles you?”
 
Meridian reached into a pocket and brought forth a gold coin. He handed it to Offa.
 
“This has caused you grief," Meridian said, "but you are not aware of it as of yet. You soon will be. Your views on the church, as well as your head butting with the clergy, will have them upon you. That alone has stacked the fire wood against your door. But this,” Meridian shook the coin, “has set torch to the wood.”
 
Offa stood and threw back his sleeves. His temper was up now, and he walked back and forth along the path. “Who? Tell me how many of them are seeking my fall. Is it Jaenberht? That blustering ass can barely spell treachery, much less offer proof of it.”
 
“Yes, sire, the archbishop is among them.”
 
“How many churches must I build before these overfed geese stop their honking!” Offa raged. “How thick must their coffers be? How heavy their purses before I have won them? Bastards! They have no idea the reason that the dinar was struck.”
 
Meridian stood beside him now, listening.
 
“It is the first gold coin to be struck in Mercia. This was meant to re-forge the trade alliance between Mercia and the Islamic traders; our Holy Language on the front and the language of Islam on the reverse. We need their wares, and more important, we need their skills, yet these holy hedgehogs seek to destroy our ability to trade!”
 
“Perhaps if you were to explain your–”
 
“I need make no explanations! I am King of Mercia!”
 
Meridian bowed his head just slightly.
 
“Yes, sire–you are king.”
 
Offa went back to the wooden bench and sat, still grumbling.
 
“You are indeed king of this land, but know this, if they wish it, they will poison the heart of any and every subject that would allow it. Your foundation, the very ideals that make you King of Mercia, will be chipped away.”
 
Offa wrung his hands.
 
“Eventually,” Meridian continued, “it shall crumble, and they will use this coin to begin it. I understand your reasoning, and support your decisions–most of the time.” Meridian smiled at this point, hoping to disarm Offa’s rage. It appeared to succeed, to a small degree.
 
Offa shook his head and spat.
 
“You must not let them stand as one against you. You must not give them reason.” Meridian said this looking directly into the eyes of Offa. “It will be your undoing. You will be marked as traitor to your faith, and they will remove every trace of your existence as King of Mercia.”
 
The King seemed to think for a moment, then blinked a few times as the suggestion took hold.
 
“You are wise, perhaps too wise to not be my Royal Council,” he said.
 
Meridian scoffed. “I am indeed your council, sire. You have but to request my knowledge and it is yours; you know this.”
 
Offa shook his head. “Yes-yes, of course I know this my friend, but these men and their schemes–they most assuredly do try my patience.” Offa continued. “I have done everything for this kingdom. I have sacrificed years of my time to see that we have what we need to prosper, to become stronger and more safe, yet at every turn I am confronted with naysayers and whispered accusations. Never – never are they satisfied!”
 
He kicked a stone from the pathway. “Why?” he asked Meridian. “All kings struggle with these issues, I am certain, and I now begin to understand how they are sometimes seen as tyrants. All have their limits of offal and accusations thrown by their subjects, yet when that point is reached–”
 
“You are still expected to carry yourself in a kingly manner,” Meridian finished for him.
 
“Yes,” Offa sighed, one is still expected to carry on.”
 
*
 
In a nearby room, Kala was attempting to dress herself. Two maids were fussing and interfering with her progress. Kala thought they behaved like bobbin birds; frantic little water birds that dipped and ran to and fro.  
 
“If you wish milady, you may choose from any of these garments. We can adjust their size to fit you. They will be far more appropriate for a lady of your beauty.”
 
The other maid nodded and um-hummed vigorously.
 
“Get away from me or I shall scream,” Kala finally said gritting her teeth. She had been scrubbed and polished, her hair washed and her fingernails cleaned, she had even washed her hair with soap that smelled of lavender. Her leather breeches had been scrubbed to a sheen and oiled with a sweet-smelling “something.” Her new shirt had likewise been scrubbed, and she now saw that a heavy belt, inlaid with metal studs, had been added to her small wardrobe. Even her boots had been cleaned and brushed.
 
The two maids folded their hands in unison and stepped back from Kala’s reach, pouting as Kala dressed after drying her hair a bit in front of the fireplace.
 
“Thank you,” she said, buttoning her shirt. “The bath was very nice, and I appreciate everything you did.”
 
This brought instant smiles from both the maids. “It was our pleasure, my lady.”
 
“Kala–my name is Kala.”
 
The chubby one perked at this. “It was our pleasure, Lady Kala.”
 
“Not Lady, just–oh burn it.”
 
She finished dressing and pulled a comb through her hair a few times, then pushed it back out of her face. She had no sooner done this when there were the two bobbins again, and each holding more gifts; ribbons and bands for her hair. Kala eyed them both as if they were armed and dangerous.
 
“Your face is far too lovely to shadow it with your hair.” This from the chubby one.
 
“Which is also envied by every woman in the Royal Residence,” the skinny maid quickly added, smiling like a pixie.
 
Kala frowned at all of the ribbons and puffy head bands, and then she saw the silver. It was a design that she had seen before; Celt. The design wound around the band, never seeming to end. The bobbins looked at each other with grins and high-raised eyebrows, seeing that Kala had found something that she saw as appealing.
 
“This could be handy,” Kala said.
 
Skinny maid offered to help her and Kala allowed it, holding back her long hair as the band was slid into place. One attempt produced the desired effect, with the exception of a few strands that kept falling back into Kala’s face. Chubby maid remedied this with two quick braids; one on each side of Kala’s face, and pulled the braids back behind the band’s clasp.
 
“Perfect,” the bobbins said almost in unison. Kala was handed a small looking glass. She held it up and stared, blinking. The maids looked worried.
 
“Do you not approve?” Chubby maid asked, appearing to be on the verge of tears.
 
Kala still stared at her small reflection. “No–I mean, yes. I… I approve. It is quite– ” Kala stammered. She lowered the glass and gathered all of her remaining items. “Thank you. You are both quite–handy. Not handy, I mean–thank you.”
 
The maids curtsied and glowed with the compliment, obviously unused to praise. Kala made a hasty exit and went to search for Meridian.
 
 
*
 
 
Meridian still sat with King Offa, offering more of his report. Offa was not happy.
 
“What more do they want of me?” he asked. “We've not been invaded. We are not at war. We still have all of the trade routes open. Any areas of hunger or sickness or need are addressed as they become apparent. What?”
 
Meridian stepped carefully here, Offa was not a dullard, but he held a temper barely in check when shown any opposition to his thinking.
 
“There are questions being raised again, sire. These questions–you will not like hearing them.”
 
Offa shook his head and sighed. “Now what?”
 
“It concerns your ascension to the throne of Mercia; the means by which it came to pass. The talk is not rampant, nor does issue from your subjects.”
 
“The damned clergy,” Offa gritted his teeth. “Perhaps they would not be so outspoken if a few of them were imprisoned, or one of their churches burned.”
 
“If I may?"
 
Offa waved away Meridian's concern.
 
"Though you may have decreed the building of a hundred of these places of worship, know that the destruction of even one at your command would prove a grave error. It would be falling into their trap, and they would have even more reason–and cause–to then make the attempt to remove you from the throne.”
 
Offa looked at Meridian suddenly. “They are speaking of this?” he asked, eyes wide.
 
“No, sire– not at this time, but it is obvious that they will use anything that is at hand to gain strength for the church and diminish yours. They fear you and they fear your influence, thus they seek to bridle you, even more so now due to your alliance with Charlemagne.”
 
“As always,” Offa said, “the sword has two edges.”
 
 
*
 
Kala made her escape from the bobbins and wandered through the inner courtyard. There were many arched doorways, leading to who knew where. At one point in her exploration, she spotted Meridian and King Offa across the yards. She started to make her way toward their position, but stopped when she realized that the conversation would probably not be open to her. She located a long veranda, a covered hallway that appeared to run the length of one side of the inner courtyard. She walked a short way down the hall, looking at the small, stained glass windows along the way.
 
Kala smelled her before she appeared; Cynethryth.
 
The queen rounded the corner. Kala stopped and stood straight, not knowing how to react. She did the only thing that she remembered, she bowed her head, saying the title. “Queen Cynethryth.”
 
Cynethryth came into full view, dress flowing behind her, a small handkerchief in one of her gloved hands, held to her nose. She stared sleepily at Kala; the smallest of nods was offered.
 
“I detest the smell of animals. It seems that in this region there is no escape from it,” the queen said this with a slight sneer on her face. She looked Kala up and down. “I am in the habit of knowing all that are invited into the inner courtyard.”
 
Cynethryth’s voice was like an slime eel crawling over Kala’s skin.
 
“I do not however, know you.”
 
Kala raised her head, perhaps a bit too high, before her response. “I am Kala Redway of Whitehaven, Queen Cynethryth. I am traveling with the regent, Meridian.”
 
The queen lowered her chin and raised one slim eyebrow slightly, and removed her hand from her mouth. Kala saw the ice appear in Cynethryth’s eyes.
 
“Ahhh, the king’s spy has a new whore; how fitting.”
 
Kala’s blood was instantly inflamed, and she had to tell herself to keep her mouth shut, and that her blades were somewhere in the stables, wrapped in a blanket; this perhaps was a blessing for both of them. Kala’s mind spun. What would be the nastiest response that she could offer to this fat, pasty-skinned, strutting, swine? Kala smiled.
 
“Indeed, Queen Cynethryth, he has. Meridian prefers his women both beautiful and talented, with a bit more sun on their faces than can usually be found in locations such as these.”
 
Cynethryth was stunned. Her thin, painted mouth stood open and her gloved hands hung limp at her sides. She took a menacing step toward Kala, who did not flinch.
 
“You filthy, common, little–” the queen started, but Kala interrupted her threat.
 
“I assure you, ‘queen’ that if you touch me, you will not live long enough to call your guards. I may hang for your death–then again, perhaps not–but have no doubt, your death is most assured.”
 
Kala spoke these words just above a whisper, and it was issued straight into Cynethryth’s eyes.
 
The queen shook with rage and with uncertainty. She inhaled and opened her mouth, perhaps to shout for her guards, but closed it again, exhaling. She smiled a horrible, cold smile. “I see the little whore also has claws; interesting.” She stepped around Kala, looking her up and down. “Perhaps the regent has chosen more wisely this time.”
 
“That remains to be seen,” Kala said smoothly, “but it would seem that I have more in common with the regent than the Lady Marina did.” Kala bowed only slightly. “With your permission,” Kala said, “I will leave you to your walk.” Kala turned on her heel, leaving the queen of Mercia to soak in her own venom.
 
*
 
Meridian spotted Kala across the yards and stood, waving his hand to gain her attention. Kala walked quickly toward him, hoping that she would not take a bolt in her back from one of Cynethryth's guards. Offa stood when Kala approached their position.
 
“Ah–Lady Kala. I see you are finding your way around quite nicely.” Offa said, reaching for Kala's hand.
 
She did not know how to respond to this gesture, and she offered her hand as if to shake his. Offa smiled easily and took her hand in his, turning it slightly, and kissed it. Kala half glanced at Meridian, who raised his eyebrows and smiled.
 
“So nice to have a bit of beauty in this mud hole. Please tell me that you have the time to stay for dinner,” Offa said this last in a mock official tone, looking at Meridian.
 
“It would be our pleasure, your majesty.”
 
Meridian saw Kala's rapid head shaking before Offa turned back to her.
 
“Splendid! I shall have Ebert produce a special meal for us. We can afford to reduce the pig population by at least one, especially since the queen finds the scent of them alive so revolting.”
 
Offa slapped Meridian on his shoulder and told them to attend to their business and to expect dinner by nightfall. They would meet shortly before that time in the main room “for a drink or two,” as he put it. Both he and Kala bowed cordially. When the king had walked far enough away, Kala glared at Meridian.
 
“You imbecile. Why did you agree to that? You would have us dine with that overbearing bitch? She threatened me! I had only a moment to stand in her presence and the treacherous bitch threatened me!”
 
Meridian frowned at this news. “Threatened you, how?”
 
“Well, she called me a whore, for one, then filthy, then common–and then I may have said something back to her.”
 
Meridian paled. “Gods, Kala. What did you say?”
 
“She started it!” she whispered loudly.
 
Meridian stared at her.
 
Kala threw up her hands. “I may have... well, sort of... threatened to kill her.”
 
 
 

Author Notes King Offa reined over Mercia from 757 AD to 796. His wife, Cynethryth, was renowned for her cruelty. Cynethryth is the only Anglo-Saxon queen ever depicted on a coin. Offa actually did have a large dispute with the church, and particularly with Jaenberht, the Archbishop of Canterbury.


Chapter 10
Bitter Feast

By Mufasa

“You threatened to kill Queen Cynethryth? The queen of Mercia–you truly threatened to kill her?”
 
“How many ways can you ask the question?” Kala smiled when she asked this.
 
Meridian did not smile when he responded, “A moment; you saw her only for a moment and yet you managed to secure your position as her enemy. Genius!”
 
“Again–I did not instigate the argument, she did. I will not stand shyly by and be called a whore; not by any pig farmer–not by any queen. Just for your information, she threatened me first. Was I to stand there and swallow her words as if they were truth, as if they were nothing to me?”
 
Kala's eyes were as green as sunlight through an emerald, and they appeared all the more so whenever her blood was up and her face flushed with anger.
 
“I know that you said she is a treacherous bitch, but I had no idea. The woman truly is maniacal!”
 
“And now you are her enemy.” Meridian shook his head and drank another cup of wine. “Perfect.”
 
Kala huffed and crossed her arms.
 
“You look quite pretty, by the way.”
 
“I don't care if–what?” She frowned.
 
“I said, you look–”
 
“I heard what you said.”
 
Meridian now took his turn at frowning. “Then why did you ask?” he glared back. “Gods!” He threw up his hands.
“women are vexed!” He started to walk back along the path, headed for their room.
 
“Thank you,” she said lightly.
 
He raised his hands again and shook his head, still walking down the path.
 
Kala grinned.
 
*
 
 
King Offa made yet another toast.
 
This is the fourth, Kala thought. How many more before we can be done with this?
 
They had managed to make it through the meal and without Kala stabbing Queen Cynethryth through her cold heart.
 
“To your news, Lady Kala. The information is greatly appreciated, and shall be put to use right away.” He raised his goblet in her direction and offered that crooked smile.
 
Kala raised her goblet in return, and bowed her head. “At your service, King Offa.” To Meridian, she seemed to mean it. Good on her.
 
“Northmen,” Offa growled the word. “They drive their ships up our rivers and butcher and plunder at will. They have met their doom on the burhs. Their ships cannot go beyond the bridges, not without the complete destruction of the barriers. By the time they somehow manage to destroy even one, they have another to pass almost within the same day, and troops will be raining fire and arrows upon them every moment that they remain.”
 
“A logical plan, King Offa.”
 
Captain Othen sat across from the king, and had remained quiet unless spoken to directly. Othen was no fool.
 
“The burhs offer a means to stop these demons from using the rivers to sack the entire country at will.” He turned to Kala. “You actually saw them come ashore–in Gwyned? The bastards can sail, I'll give them that.”
 
“Indeed. It seems that they appear where they are least likely, and simply take whatever they damn well please.” This from Offa, who looked upon Kala with a softer eye than was usual for him.
 
The queen did not miss this. “You claim that you came through the Gap and around the Chin; if this is true, what were you doing in Powys?”
 
Kala did not hesitate. “I claim nothing, Queen Cynethryth. I traveled. My father knew horses and he also knew water, and how to make it bend to his will.”
 
“He was an engineer? He built canals?” Othen asked.
 
“Yes,” Kala replied. “As well as irrigation channels and wells.”
 
“Wells and canals. It seems we not only are in your debt, but your father's as well!” Offa sloshed wine as he bellowed this, and offered the fifth toast. The King of Mercia had now toasted both a father and his daughter.
 
Cynethryth glared. “So, are you a spy?” The queen smiled as if joking, but the question was ripe with accusation.
 
Again, Kala did not falter in her response. “Queen Cynethryth, if I am a spy, it would seem that I am in the service of your king.”
 
Cynethryth shrank into her seat.
 
Meridian grinned to himself and Othen smiled openly, looking at Kala. “It was flight that led Kala through the Gap,” Meridian spoke. “The village where she happened to be at the time was set upon; they were Northmen.”
 
Kala had not mentioned this, and she struggled with the memory now.
 
“They attacked a Powys village?” King Offa asked.
 
Kala steadied herself. “No, King Offa, not Powys. The largest town near where they attacked would be on the northern coast of Colwyn Bay–Llandudno. The inlet there is tidal, with a great many sandbars and shallows. The river runs far inland from that point, but is a gamble. It is unpredictable as to what channel may or may not be passable at any tide, even with their shallow hulls.”
 
All eyes were on Kala. Offa looked at Captain Othen, then at Meridian.
 
Othen spoke, “It is true, the river inlet is fed by the sea, and sand is heaped high and ever-changing, even far inland. Damned lucky for the inhabitants of that area, I would say.”
 
“Yet our new friend managed to somehow escape,” Cynethryth mocked. “Most resourceful.”
 
Kala stiffened and Meridian groaned inwardly.
 
“I escaped by waiting until my captor was asleep, and sliced his throat so that he could not cry out. For good measure, I gutted him and stuffed a troll cross into his mouth so that his companions would believe I was a forest demon and not be so inclined to track me.”
 
Queen Cynethryth, as well as Offa and Othen looked shocked. It was only Meridian that watched her with a steady gaze.
 
“I hid in a sea cave; I lost track of time there, but I was told by Allan, the fisherman that found me, that I was there for two days. He took us through the Gap, and then around the Chin. We came ashore somewhere to the south and west of here, at the inlet.” Kala exhaled and drank some of her wine.
 
“And that is where I found them,” Meridian said. “On a beach, on the south bank from Lydney.”
 
No one spoke for a few moments.
 
“God be praised, girl.” Offa said, and drank some of his own wine.
 
“Indeed,” Othen said, nodding and winking at Kala.
 
The queen could not let this sit. “Yes, it seems that you are quite–lucky. Tell us, where is you father now, and mother for that matter?”
 
Kala's hand slowly crushed the goblet that she was holding, but Cynethryth did not see this. Meridian did.
 
“I don't know. I – I last saw them both at a market near that same area, perhaps half a days travel from there. We were to meet back there within three days, and then return to the south. I thought perhaps that I shall make my way back to Whitehaven to search for them.”
 
“An excellent plan,” Meridian said. “Perhaps we can leave on the morning, if you are–”
 
“Yes!” Kala answered. “That would be wonderful! I mean, it would be wonderful to know that they are safe.”
 
“Well then,” Offa said as he pushed back his chair, “we had best let you get rested so that you can make all haste for Whitehaven.”
 
All stood, and offered bows to Offa.
 
Kala released the goblet that she had damaged, and now tilted at an odd angle.
 
“You will need a horse of your own,” Othen said, taking Kala's arm in his own. “Lucky for you that your regent here has a few of his own in the stables.”
 
Kala turned a surprised look to Meridian. “And what does Oros think of this?” she asked him.
 
“Oh, he doesn't seem to mind; they are all mares.” He said this with a half grin, and Kala grinned in return.


Chapter 11
Freedom

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

The night passed with no attempt on Kala’s life, and neither were threatened with imprisonment; this was a good sign. The two shared a quick meal before sunrise and now headed to the stables. Captain Othen met them on the bridge, and made it a point to show his shock that Kala had survived the night.
 
“God be praised, she lives!” Othen shouted at their approach.
 
“I slept with a blade under my pillow–when I slept,” Kala replied as she came to the center of the span.
 
Othen raised his eyebrows and laughed, and made a show of bowing to Kala. “Nothing but good news on this morning,” the captain said, standing upright again.
 
“What other?” Meridian asked, noting that the bridge guards now carried both sword and shields along with their pikes.
 
“It seems that Kala’s news set a bell to ringing in King Offa’s head. He has ordered the wall completed sooner than his original decree. He also agreed to let me have my way with the building of several more burhs along inland rivers. He has dragged his feet upon this decision for far too long, and your information appears to have set a spur to his arse. My compliments, Lady Kala.”
 
“My pleasure, Captain Othen, although I cared little for being named a spy.”
 
“Ah, that. I never thought that I would have a need to apologize for a queen; it seems that I was wrong. I'm truly sorry that you had to endure that bit.”
Othen took her hand. “Although from what I have learned of you in our short time together here, I am sure that you shall make a full recovery from the ordeal.” He kissed her hand and bowed again.
 
“Oh do stop before I toss my breakfast onto your shiny boots,” Meridian said mockingly.
 
Kala rolled her eyes. “Such a gentleman.”
 
All three snickered, and continued to the stables. They were still talking as they approached the stalls. A very loud whinny and a snort greeted them.
 
“Ohh–he missed me,” Kala cooed.
 
Meridian took his turn to roll eyes.
 
“Time for your own to dress in frillies and kiss on the nose,” he said. He led her to a different area, away from Oros’s stall, where several nice mares were stabled, busily munching on cut hay.
 
“These are yours?” Kala asked.
 
“Are you shocked that I own horses? I could'nt very well keep them at the cottage, now could I?”
 
Kala walked around the enclosure, looking at the horses. She pushed one back so that she could see this mare’s lines.
 
Othen looked at Meridian. “She said she knew horses,” he smirked.
 
“She said her father knew horses,” Meridian corrected.
 
Kala stepped into the enclosure and held her hand up to the dark mare. The horse stood still as Kala ran her hands over her joints, and looked at her ears and eyes.
 
Again, Othen grinned at Meridian. “She chooses the–” Othen began.
 
“Destrier,” Kala said. “This mare is a Destrier.”
 
“–war horse,” Othen finished.
 
Meridian shook his head, and grinned. “Of course she does.”
 
Kala stood next to the mare, eyebrows raised in question.
 
“Well–bring her out,” Meridian said.
 
Kala led the horse out of the enclosure, patting her neck and speaking to her softly. “That’s a good girl, such a pretty girl, yes you are.”
 
The captain snorted and started giggling.
 
Meridian cocked his head to one side, looking at him.
 
“Is this where you kiss her nose?” Othen asked, still smirking.
 
Kala replied without looking at the captain. “How a horse is treated, Captain, says a great deal about the owner.” She looked at Meridian after saying this. “Do you not think?”
 
Meridian glanced at Captain Othen, who was reddening and holding his hand over his face.
 
“A fine choice! Magnificent animal!” Othen expounded. “Strong and fast, quick turning, long of wind.”
 
“You would note long of wind,” Meridian said flatly.
 
Meridian asked the stable master to show Kala the tack and saddles. She tied the Destrier off and followed the man into the storage house.
 
Othen clapped Meridian on his back. “She’s a prize, that one. Long legs, strong, smooth lines, good eyes.”
 
“Which are we speaking of?” Meridian asked Othen.
 
The captain looked toward Kala, then at the mare. “Both!”
 
Meridian brought Oros out of his stall and brushed the dust from his back. Oros helped by giving himself a full body shake and then slapped the stable master across the face with his long tail.
 
“Bloody hell! Take this devil-beast from here!” The stall master yelled this and walked away, holding his stung face.
 
“My apologies,” Meridian said, trying not to laugh.
 
The man waved Meridian off and headed to the store room. He had no sooner reached it when Kala came storming out of the doorway.
 
“Is this common practice for you and your stallmen?” Kala held a pile of what appeared to be saddle blankets in both arms, which she tossed onto the ground. “Look at this,” she told the stall master.
 
The man turned toward Meridian for help.
 
“I am speaking to you–not him!” Kala picked up one of the blankets and shoved it into the man’s hands. “Look at it! You would put this on a horse's back?”
 
The man opened the blanket and looked. There were a number of prickly buttons stuck to the blanket, and worn patches that had little or no padding.
 
“How would you like this on your back with a saddle strapped to it, and a fat-arsed rider on top of that?”
 
The man stuttered and started to reply, but Kala was not done yet.
 
“You will burn these or find some other use for them. They will not be on another horse's back–ever again.”
 
“But milady, we–” the man started again.
 
Kala glared at him then went into the main stalls, returning with a small candle plate. She snatched the blanket from the man and set the candle to it. It burned quickly, as did the remaining blankets that were still on the ground. Kala stood for few more moments then went back into the store room. She came out again with a saddle as well as a blanket that had obviously both met her approval. She walked by Meridian and Captain Othen.
 
“I will repay you.” She took a few steps, then stopped and turned back to them. “Thank you,” she said, and went to saddle the Destrier.
 
Meridian looked at the stall master who was kicking dirt onto the fire, and then at Othen.
 
Othen said what perhaps all three were thinking. “Oh yes, you're in for a fun trip–a fun trip indeed.”
 
A short time later, Kala had saddled the mare and secured her gear and food into the packs. She twisted and turned in the saddle, making sure it was comfortable for both herself and the horse. Satisfied, she came out of the enclosure and stopped in front of Oros to see what his reaction would be to the mare. Oros sniffed, then continued chewing hay.
 
“He seems not to mind her,” Kala said.
 
“He won't mind her unless she is ready to mate.”
 
“Aye, just like a man, eh?” the captain said, grinning.
 
Kala smirked.
 
Captain Othen came to her side and patted the horse’s rear. “You watch out for our friend, will you?”
 
Kala smiled and looked back at Meridian. “I will do my best, but he is a man, so I can only keep him out of so much trouble.”
 
Othen laughed loudly at that one, and went to Meridian's side.
 
“Hope to see you soon. Take care of yourself. I leave for Bearden on this morning.”
 
“And you do the same, Captain. It may be some time before I am in the area again, Whitehaven is a three week ride. What do you in Bearden?”
 
Othen looked around before responding in a whisper, “Pigeons.”
 
Meridian looked perplexed, and started to speak.
 
“Don't ask. Farewell my friend.”
 
Othen raised his hand to Kala, who returned the salute.
 
Meridian adjusted his blades and tilted his head to one side as he spoke to Kala. “Ready?”
 
“Ready.” Kala lightly tapped her horse's sides, and they were off. 
 
 
*
 
 
 
The pair departed Gloucester, heading North West. They finally cleared the outlying villages and began to see the hills in the distance. Farms and vast fields were everywhere in this land, as well as the people that worked and tended them. They passed carts loaded with hay and cor, or thatch for roofing. At times they saw cattle and pigs in enclosures or roaming fields alongside the road.
 
Kala laughed.
 
“What?” Meridian asked.
 
“Animals. The treacherous bitch detests the smell of animals,” adding a deep-voiced flourish to the statement.
 
Meridian looked at her and snorted, which in turn caused Kala to laugh.
 
Kala noticed that he continued to watch her, which prompted her to look at her clothing as if she had something crawling to her.
 
“Do I have something on my face?” she asked, wiping.
 
Meridian gave a half-smile. “You did very well last evening. I was certain that Cynethryth was in mortal danger at more than one point during the conversation. You can hold your temper when it is imperative, that's good.”
 
Kala nodded, and stared at the road for a few moments. “I'm not from Whitehaven,” she said suddenly.
 
“I know, your accent is not from that area. It was far enough away that I doubted there would be questions that you could not lie your way through.”
 
“You said I was a terrible liar.”
 
“I also know you have a bloody hot temper, but you proved that you could control it.”
 
“You tested me.”
 
“If you had become flustered, I or Othen would have rescued you; you were in no danger.”
 
“Except for the part where the bitch called me a spy,” Kala growled. “Fat cow,” she said under her breath– almost.
 
They traveled easily after letting both of the horses find a comfortable pace. Oros strode, exuding immense power and confidence, whereas Kala’s new mare stepped much more lightly. Though not a small animal, the mare was far less in size than Oros. She walked with her head carried a bit higher than any common horse, wary for trouble. Kala sat the mare well and rode easily, as if she had been on horseback all of her life.
 
“Can I ask you something?” Kala said, looking at the road ahead.
 
“That rings ominous.”
 
“Where are we going?”
 
Meridian laughed. “An astute question. Is there somewhere that you would like to go, or need to be? Your parents, perhaps?”
 
Kala tensed, and Meridian noticed.
 
“My parents are long since passed away. It has been years since I have spoken of them to anyone.”
 
She looked at him. “And yours?”
 
“Also long since gone from the earth,” he replied. “So tell me where you're from, and by that I mean where you were a child.”
 
Meridian said this in a casual manner. He watched her out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. Her breathing changed and she stared straight ahead.
 
“If you aren't comfortable discussing this, you don't need to feel forced. We have time, and no destination as of yet.”
 
Kala relaxed. She did look at him then, just a glance and then eyes back to the road, which lay a great distance in front of them.


Chapter 12
Trust and Truth

By Mufasa

The afternoon wore on, and at the crest of a small hill Meridian stopped and stepped down, leading Oros to a stream a short way off of the road, which had become far less traveled now. They had encountered only two persons headed south in the past few hours.
 
Kala also dismounted and led her mare to the stream.
 
“We need to locate a place to rest for the night," Meridian said. "I've been on this road before, but I have no idea of a safe area for us to make camp.”
 
Kala nodded and looked around the spot that they were in. “Perhaps on the hill, in the field?” she asked.
 
“You seem to put a great deal of trust in your fellow man. It's one thing to camp openly in a large group with eyes everywhere; a lonely road after nightfall is quite another.”
 
Kala sighed loudly and raised her hands. “Fine, where do you suggest?”
 
Meridian looked at her oddly. “You've managed to remain alive for–how long did you say?”
 
“I did'nt say, and it is rude for you to ask a woman of her age.”
 
Meridian rolled his eyes. “I would think that we are now beyond that particular social boundary, would you not agree?”
 
Kala set her jaw.
 
“You said that I was the one that offered nothing,” he told her quietly. “I am traveling with a woman that I know very little–”
 
“Oh all right,” she blurted out. She wandered the area for a few moments before sitting on a fallen tree trunk. “I don't know how old I am, at least not exactly. I don't enjoy discussing this.”
 
“Why not? Meridian seemed genuinely shocked. “You are obviously no old maid, nor are you a child, so tell me why you should be embarrassed?”
 
“I did not say that I was embarrassed, I said I was not comfortable discussing it.”
 
Meridian sat next to her on the log. “You know more than you admit. Perhaps it's time that we are both a bit more honest with the other.”
 
Kala looked panicked now, and fought to keep her hands still.
 
“Kala–again, you have no reason to fear me.” He let this sink in for a moment before continuing. “We know that you have the ability to recall minute details, and word for word conversations, as do I. We also know that you are able to influence the thoughts of others–not all–but some,” he said. “As can I,” he finished, smiling.
 
Kala’s eyes went wide. She stood abruptly and nearly stumbled retreating backwards, and finally did fall on her backside.
 
“Did I suddenly grow horns?”
 
Kala did indeed look panicked now. She looked behind her, and towards her horse.
 
Meridian shook his head. “Calm yourself before you trip and hit your head on a rock. I have far more to lose than you in telling you this, girl.”
 
“I am no girl!” she shouted, startling the horses as well as Meridian.
 
He stood and walked slowly toward the horses talking softly to them, calming them. He reached Oros and patted his back, and then the mare came to him, eyes wide, searching for a threat.
 
“Hush, hush–there's nothing there. Easy now.”
 
He turned to Kala, who was still looking unsure what to do. “Calm yourself. If you spook them again you will spend the evening running after them.”
 
Kala stood and looked as if she were going to run.
 
Meridian looked straight at her, pointing to the log. “Sit.”
 
She glared at him.
 
“Sit. Down.” His tone now threatened more of a good spanking than any real danger.
 
She walked stiffly back to the log and sat.
 
Meridian tied the animals off and returned to his previous spot on the log.
 
“Now–if you can control that damnable temper, we need to talk.”
 
Kala flipped her hair out of her face, folded her arms across her middle, and nodded.
 
 
A while later they had made their way deeper into the forest. Their camp had been set below a large hill, and the stream they had followed to this point was just on the other side. They were hidden from the road, even with a decent fire going. Both horses had been brushed and tended to, and a small meal had been eaten by the two travelers that now pretended to not look at each other.
 
“How long do we do this?” Kala asked.
 
“Until you realize that I can be trusted enough to tell me the truth,” Meridian said quietly, checking his blades for any sign of rust.
 
“You act as if I should believe your every word, no matter the subject. That is not an easy task for me.”
 
“I can understand that. A woman of your beauty will always be a distraction to any man, and woman for that matter. It's no surprise that you are not quick to trust.”
 
Kala narrowed her eyes at him, and smirked. “Your flattery does little to loosen my tongue, no matter if it has persuaded many others.”
 
Meridian stood and brushed his clothing free of any ash. “As you wish litle rabbit. I will begin.”
 
Kala bristled at this remark, but said nothing.
 
“You are, in all likelihood, far older than you appear. You recall not only all details and conversations, but everything; all that you see, hear, smell, taste, touch–all that you feel. You remember these things as if they just occurred. Years may pass, but the memories are still as if you hold them in a jar, and open it to see them as new. You struggle with emotion, because there are memories that tear at you and turn your insides to hot stones.”
 
He watched her become smaller, and struggle to hold herself steady.
 
“You doubt your sanity, and you sometime see your very existence as a blasphemy; a mote in the eye of God, if you even believe in him. You spend hours each day wondering why this could have happened to you, and if you will ever attain that one bit of knowledge. Watching everyone, listening to every snippet of conversation in the hope that you will overhear some small something that leads you to an answer.”
 
He knelt in front of her now, but looked beyond her as he spoke.
 
“Begging God or the gods, or spirit or demon to show you a sign, to offer a voice–a reason for what you are, but it never comes. Wondering year after year, until the years become a century, and the century–”
He paused here. He gazed at something behind her; at some far thing that only he could see. He blinked and quickly stood, looking at her once more.
 
“The answer never comes. The only hope that can be truly expected is to locate another that is like you.” He bowed slightly, and smiled. “I am that other.”
 
Kala hugged herself, shaking. He sat down next to her, leaning against her for a moment and then sitting back upright. He tilted his head, trying to see her face.
 
“I know that this is terribly difficult to comprehend; far too much to have placed on your shoulders at once, but it is important that you understand that you are not unique– at least not in the sense that I now speak of. Kala, you do not walk this world alone.”
 
She nodded and rubbed her hands on her breeches.
 
He stood, and held his out his hand. “Come, let me show you something.”
 
Kala took his hand and allowed herself to be led to a nearby hill top. Meridian pointed across the edge of the forest, toward the northwest. Kala looked for a moment before questioning.
 
“What am I looking at, the road?”
 
“Yes, the road. It is one of many throughout this land, there are many hundreds of miles, but you already know this.”
 
Kala nodded.
 
“But do you know their history, how they came to be built?”
 
“The Romans– everyone knows this.”
 
Meridian tilted his head at her response. “Do they? If you were to ask most people, they would tell you that the roads were built by kings. Most have very little know ledge or memory of how they were constructed or when.”
 
“But you do,” Kala said.
 
Meridian did not bother to nod here, she knew it was true. He pointed to the road’s course through the hills and around the far mountain range.
 
“If it interests you, I will tell you of the roads and of Rome.”
 
“All that I know is that they were here far before King Æthelbald’s reign,” Kala said. “My father told me this many times.”
 
“How old?” he asked quietly.
 
Kala looked straight into his eyes before answering. “I was eighteen years when Æthelbald took power.”
 
“The year seven and sixteen,” Meridian said. “So you were born in the year six hundred and ninety-eight. You are eighty-six years.” Meridian smiled, only slightly.
 
Kala studied the grass at her feet.
 
Meridian again took her hand.
 
“Very well,” he said, heading back to their camp site. “The roads began to be built even before the Roman invasion. Prior to the roads there were only pathways and dirt tracks scattered everywhere. The ridge roads, the ones that ran along the tops of hills or the ridges of mountains, they still can be seen. Roman roads were constructed for two main reasons; to allow the quick movement of troops and supplies to different points in the land, and to promote trade. The construction was not begun on any road until every stone was accounted for on the design. They were so adept at this that they could complete large sections of these roads with no main paving stones left over. This was an incredible accomplishment, and the roads serve us still. Very few things were ever built with such precision and care; none in this land. The only other thing close is also of Roman design and structure.”
 
“The canals,” Kala said.
 
“Yes. The Roman system of canal building alone would have changed the land, but coupled with the roads? It was as if the gods had given the land a new life. The people of one region no longer starved while another region had an abundance of harvest.” Meridian paused here. “But there was a cost. Roman troops moved at will from any point to another in a matter of days, completing their ability to rule the land. Regardless of the improvement of their lives, the people were still subjected to Rome’s will, they were not free.”
 
“How do you know this?” Kala asked.
 
Meridian again showed the shadow of a smile. “Because I was here.”
 
Kala turned squarely toward him.
 
“What? Here? You mean in Mercia, with the Romans?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“This is... this is all just–” Kala began, but she sat in the grass and held her head in her hands.
 
Meridian sat next to her. “It is maddening, I know,” he said.
 
“You were here, you are–were, a Roman soldier?”
 
“Not Roman, although by Roman law anyone that was subjugated under Rome was indeed, in their eyes at least, from that point forward, Roman.”
 
“And when was that? Where were you born?” She stood and began pacing, still holding her head, albeit with one hand now instead of both. “No–no, not where, when? All things holy, how old are you?” She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him now, one hand on her head, the other on her hip.
 
Meridian said calmly, “I am very old, Kala.”
 
“How bloody old!”
 
“Have you heard the name Octavian Augustus?”
 
She frowned, “a Roman general? I have read his name, but I know little of that history.”
 
Meridian raised his eyebrows. “You can read, very good.”
 
“Well of course I can read, you dullard. I am not an idiot.”
 
“I am aware of that fact, it simply surprises me to meet anyone not of royalty that has been taught. Are you of royal blood?”
 
“Do not mock me!”
 
“I do not mock, I simply ask. Please don't take offense to my questions. We're not in the line of normalcy, now are we?”
 
Kala took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I suppose not. No, I have no royal blood to speak of.”
 
“You're correct, though Octavian Augustus had another name; Caesar. His great uncle was Julius Caesar. It was Octavian that defeated Mark Antony in Egypt, nine years prior to my birth. Octavian was also in Greece, in Sicily for certain, but it was also noted that he traveled through Argos.”
 
“I do not know this time. When did this take place?”
 
Meridian again looked beyond her, as if seeing something at a great distance. “Before Pax Romana–Roman Peace, and before Rome was the power that it would become. Eight hundred years ago.”
 
Something passed over his face. Sadness? Regret? She blinked and looked at the ground to steady herself.
“Eight hundred years? All things holy,” she whispered to herself once more.
 
She suddenly took both his hands and turned them over. She looked at his face and eyes, as if searching for something. “You are young,” she said, “still a young man. This is–”
 
“Madness?” he finished her statement. “No, we are not mad, Kala. We are simply different. We can hurt, and we can bleed, and mourn, and feel the pain of great loss, and we can die. We most assuredly can die.”
 
Kala shook. It was clear that she was not taking this news well.
“Oh dear God. Oh dear God,” she whispered, on the verge of tears. “Eight hundred years? Am I to live for that time as well?” she asked. “Am I to suffer this life for all that time?”
 
Meridian said nothing, but simply looked at her.
 
“Tell me!” she shouted at him. “Tell me, please.” Her tears came now.
 
Meridian went to the saddle bags and pulled out a wine skin. He opened the spout and handed it to Kala.
“Drink, I will fetch water for tonight.”
 
Kala snatched the skin and held it up to her lips, drinking as quickly as the wine flowed out.
 
Meridian passed by Oros as he headed for the stream, and patted his back.
“That went well, eh?” Oros snorted. Meridian stopped patting his back and looked at him suspiciously. “Sometimes I think that you are a bit too smart.”
 
Kala had steadied herself by the time he returned with water. She was sitting on the log, wine skin in one hand, blade in the other.
 
“Are you in fear of being robbed of the wine?” 
 
Kala turned the blade over in her hand, and glanced up at him. “No–I needed to feel something real, something... familiar, that I know is of the earth.”
 
Meridian studied her.
 
“Something that I can explain,” she said.
 
He nodded. “I understand. There is something else that you should know.”
 
“Grand,” she replied, taking more wine.
 
“I do not know why we are this way, or how long we will live.” He let that sit for a moment before continuing.
“Have you been injured before, badly?”
 
“Yes,” she replied, staring at the wine skin. “I was once thrown from a horse and broke my arm. I also had a very bad crack on my head in that same fall.”
 
“How many years were you when it happened,”
 
“My twenty second year.”
 
“Show me?”
 
She shrugged and removed her vest, and rolled up her left sleeve.
 
Meridian knelt in front of her and took her arm in his hands. He gently squeezed the area near her elbow, and then moved downward to her wrist. “Where was the break?”
 
Kala touched the back of her forearm, in between the wrist and elbow.
 
Meridian again ran his fingers over that area, squeezing as he did so. “Your head, where was the injury?”
 
Kala took his hand and placed his fingers on the left side of her head, above her ear.
 
He made circles with his fingertips, then ran a thumb over the area. He stopped and nodded.
 
“Nothing. No bump, no rough bone or obvious build up on skull nor arm. You had already changed by that time.”
 
Kala looked at him. “Changed? Is that what we are? Changed?”
 
Meridian touched her arm once again before answering. “I know of no other definition. Perhaps, Becoming?”
 
“Becoming.” she said. “Yes, I believe I prefer that to the other. Becoming, as if a butterfly from a moth,”
 
He made a face and raised his eyebrows, as if considering this. “Yes, I can see that,” he said.
 
“Glad to be of some use,” she replied, and drank more wine.
 
“Kala, do you see yourself as less than human, or not of value?”
 
“I don't know what I see anymore. I mean–oh burn it. Yes–the one question that is of most import to me is the one question that even you, at eight hundred years, cannot answer.
 
“Why?” he said quietly.
 
Kala dropped the wine skin and held her head in her hands, overwhelmed. The tears came again.
 
Meridian stood, lifting her with him as he did so. He carefully embraced her, and she held him with all of her strength as she wept.
 
The evening passed without further talk. Kala was wrapped in blankets against the chill that seemed to creep into this land every night, trying to steal away all warmth. The horses were likewise covered in blankets and dozed quietly. Only Meridian remained alert. His mind was spun away like a weavers loom, creating patterns that formed and moved on, like windblown smoke and fiery embers. Upon landing, the embers then ignited new fuel–new memories. Wine did not help; it simply made the answers more elusive.
He slid closer to Kala, who was already lying very close to him now, and pulled his own blankets tighter around him. Sleep would not come this night.


Chapter 13
Envy and Practice

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Hours earlier in the dining hall of the Royal Residence of Gloucester, an act of petty revenge was placed into motion. Queen Cynethryth held the attention of a half dozen men; men of questionable backgrounds and even more questionable morals. Her nose was held quite high as she dumped silver coins onto the hard floor, and her heart was cold as the flag stones upon which the silver fell.
 
“The regent is not to be harmed, if possible. King Offa still holds him as useful. The girl – make no mistake – is not to see another sunrise. She is to be given a message before the matter is concluded.”
 
Cynethryth handed a small tube to the man that stepped forward. As he took the message from the queen, she noticed that two of the fingers on that hand had been removed. Thief.
 
“As always, your word is my law,” three fingers awkwardly bowed.
 
The others did not bow, but simply turned and left the hall. Cynethryth poured another glass of wine, then sat comfortably on the throne of Mercia.
 
In a dark doorway at the rear of the hall, a figure stood stone-still and mouse-quiet. She kept her breathing slow and shallow, praying silently that she not cough or sneeze. She carefully crept back along the hallway and into the courtyard, paused a moment to make sure the guards were not about, then ran for the maids chambers as if a demon was chasing her.
 
 
*
 
 
Kala woke with the sun in her eyes. She unwrapped from the blankets and scratched her head with both hands.
 
“Ah, she wakes at last. Go wash your face and your breakfast will be ready.”
 
Kala stood and stretched, relieving herself of all but one of the blankets.
 
“You are either up very early or you didn't sleep,” she said. “I'm guessing the latter.”
 
Meridian smiled at her. “Hurry, your eggs will be cold.”
 
Within the hour, the horses were saddled and packed, and the two travelers were back on the Roman road.
 
A few hours behind them, and moving much faster, a group of mercenaries were also on the road, and gaining on their targets.
 
 
*
 
 
The King of Mercia raged.
 
“You did this because a girl stood up to your bullying? Bloody hell! What were you thinking?”
 
Cynethryth stood and attempted to argue. “I will not–” she began.
 
“You will not speak!” Offa roared.
 
The bobbins looked at each other and giggled silently with their small hands covering their mouths, safe in their hidden position in the hallway.
 
“You take when you should not! You speak when you should not! You act when you have no right in the matter! There was no matter to begin with! What the bloody hell– Get out! You sicken me with your petty vanities and your imaginary threats. Out!”
 
Cynethryth collapsed onto the floor in tears–so it seemed. To the bobbins, it was all a ploy to gain the king's mercy, or pity.
 
“I am sorry my King,” she sobbed with invisible tears. “I only wished–”
 
“What? Only wished what? To kill a girl that has done no harm to you? To take the life of a close friend of my ally? To have him turn against me? You are a damned foolish woman!”
 
“I saw how you looked at her! I see how you look at all of them!” she cried. Tears were there now.
 
“You see what you want to see! There is no other, and there has not been. Not since–”
 
“Do not dare speak her name to me!” Cynethryth stood as she screamed this.
 
“Again,” Offa said quietly, “you saw what you wanted to see. I never touched her, and she–” Offa paused here. “Her eyes saw only Meridian. Yet you hated her with the same passion that you now show for this girl! The Queen of Mercia reduced to pettiness and insecurity by a pretty face – and murder as well if I cannot stop this!”
 
Offa turned for the doorway. “You had best pray that I can.”
 
 
A few moments prior to this confrontation, a small tube was attached to a pigeon’s leg, and sent winging its way to Bearden. The bird keeper had taken the liberty of reading the king's note, as he did all of the notes.
 
“Bloody hell,” the keeper whispered.
 
An hour later, the message arrived at Bearden. The keeper there removed the tube and read.
 
“Bloody hell!”
 
He ran to give the note to Captain Othen.
 
Othen offered his response as well. “Treacherous bitch. Master of arms! Horses! Now! This is going to be a long day.”
 
 
*
 
 
“Enough of this," Meridian said. "Come, up. Just the knives.”
 
Kala groaned, but stood and gathered herself.
 
Meridian cleared an area of limbs and rocks, then motioned her to come to the center.
 
Kala entered the clearing as Meridian drew his sword and swung it in a downward arc. Kala inhaled and moved, slashing towards Meridian’s stomach. He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the curved blade. He smiled and snapped the sword back into an attacking position. Kala looked uncertain here, and Meridian made her pay for it. He feinted with the same downward cut, but when Kala started to move he stepped into the same direction and kicked her foot. Off balance, she tried to stop herself from falling, and Meridian was on her. He tapped the top of her head with his sword as she righted herself. She touched her head with the back of one hand, checking for blood. There was none.
 
“You are dead. What did you do incorrectly?”
 
Kala retraced her movements. “I thought you would do the same as you did in your first attack.”
 
Meridian nodded. “Place.” 
 
Again, he swung downward. Kala caught his sword between her two blades. Her hands stung from the impact, but she pulled as hard as she could, preventing him from raising the blade for yet another strike. She kicked, stopping her foot only inches from Meridian’s groin.
 
He relaxed and stepped back, lowering his sword. “Good. You took control of the fight and injured – or would have injured –the enemy.” He raised his sword to his brow, snapping it downward in a salute. “My thanks for not completing the action,” he said.
 
Kala grinned.
 
“Wide stance, slash across to move my sword. Leave the other blade in position to block the attack in case you miss.”
 
Kala nodded and readied herself.
 
Meridian stuck the point of his blade toward her mid-section. Kala swung her blade, slashing Meridian’s sword out of the way and throwing herself off balance once again.
 
“Stop. You're dead.”
 
Kala growled and stomped her foot.
 
Meridian studied her for a moment, as she paced. “Place.”
 
Kala centered herself.
 
“Again.” Meridian stuck the point of the blade toward her face and again Kala slashed it out of the way–and again, lost her balance.
 
“You are dead – again. Do you like being dead?”
 
“Don't be an ass! My balance is off! I know this!”
 
“If you know this, then why do you not correct it?”
 
“I am trying!”
 
“And you are dead,” he said flatly.
 
Kala growled and flipped one of the blades, caught it blade-first. She threw it past his head, the blade whup–whupped through the air and stuck in a nearby pine.
 
Meridian looked at the blade, then back at Kala. “It seems they are balanced, now let us see if we can correct yours.”
 
Kala blew a lock of wet hair from her face and adjusted her head band. A minute later found her standing on the fallen log, one blade slashing sideways, the other trailing to block an attack. She was forced from the log several times before understanding came to her.
 
“All that is needed is to move your blade, correct?”
 
Meridian nodded, drawing back his sword. “Correct. Place.”
 
Kala centered herself, and he shoved the sword toward her. She back-handed her blade, slashing the long sword away from her face, bringing her remaining blade around in an overhand arc, stopping before driving it into Meridian’s neck. She exhaled, still holding the blade in place. She stared at his eyes; he was smiling.
 
“Better,” he said.
 
He placed one arm around her small waist, drew her to him, and lifted her from the tree trunk. He stepped back and slowly released her, letting her slide down until her feet touched the ground. He held her for a moment longer; she did not squirm or try to pull away.
 
She still stared at his face when she saw him flinch.
 
“Kala–your blade.”
 
“Yes, my blade. My blade? Oh! I am sorry!”
 
A small trickle of blood ran down Meridian’s neck.
 
“Damn! I'm sorry.”
 
“It's nothing, don't worry.”
 
Kala went to the saddle bags and removed a small satchel. She opened it, took out a pinch of something, and poured a small amount of water into her palm. She made a paste and pulled Meridian’s collar away from his neck.
 
“Be still,” she told him.
 
When she was satisfied that the herb paste had stopped the bleeding, she kissed his cheek and cleaned her hands.
 
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
 
Kala frowned, “Because I cut you. You were bleeding.”
 
“I meant the kiss.” 
 
“Ah, I see. If it bothered you, I shall see that it doesn't happen again.”
 
“ I didn’t say that it–Gods! Women are impossible!”
 
Kala smiled to herself as she tied the satchel.
 
 
Several miles away, Othen and his men were pushing their mounts through the open countryside. With luck, they would be in front of the assassins by evening, before the assassins reached Meridian and Kala.


Chapter 14
Assassins

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

Kala shaded her eyes, looking at the road ahead. “So, where are we going?”
 
“You've asked that once already," Meridian replied.
 
“Yes, but I never got an answer.”
 
“No, that's not true. The last time you asked it–“
 
“Oh all right, where are we going?”
 
Meridian thought for a moment before answering. “We need to be away from Mercia for a while. There are forces at work that I want no part of. It will become worse before it is better. I've done what I can to calm Offa, but I can't stay at his side and watch his every decision.” He glanced at Kala. “That is unless you wish to spend a great deal of time with your new friend, the queen.”
 
She crowded Oros with her mare, moving her quickly away to prevent Oros from biting.
 
Meridian glared. “When are you going to name that animal?”
 
“She does not already have a name?” 
 
“I am sure, but it died with the owner, and she hasn't spoken since his passing.”
 
Kala cut her eyes at him now and stared.
 
He squinted his eyes and stared back, at least until she snorted, which caused them both to start giggling.
 
“Because of what you have done,” Kala said, “and are still doing for me; that is why I kissed you.”
 
Meridian said nothing, although he did manage a smile. “There is a traveler’s stop a few miles ahead, where the road splits into the mountains. At times, there is a small market. We can stop there and top off our supplies. If we're lucky, they will actually have something we need.”
 
Kala nodded and watched her horse flick her ears left and right with every bird chirp and squirrel bark.
 
“Vigilo,” she said.
 
“Eh?”
 
“Her name–Vigilo.”
 
“Vigilant. Yes, it suits her. Vigilo. Very good.”
 
Kala smiled and leaned over the mare’s neck, patting her. “You are Vigilo. Do you like that, pretty girl?”
 
Meridian rolled his eyes. “I think she prefers simply Vigilo.”
 
Kala ignored him. “That’s a pretty girl, yes you are.”
 
Meridian feigned a violent wretch, which prompted Oros to perk his ears at the sound.
 
“Pay no attention to them,” she told Vigilo. “They are men.”
 
 
By mid-afternoon, they noticed the road began to climb; not a steep angle, but just enough that they had to lean a bit more forward in their saddles. The hills were near, and beyond that, the mountain range. They reached the stop a while later, dismounting and tying the horses off in a visible location in the market. Thieves were in abundance in these areas. They removed their bags and strapped their swords and blades on tightly.
 
Kala removed the reins from Vigilo, and stashed them in one of her bags.
 
“Good idea,” Meridian told her.
 
“Why don’t you remove Oros’s reins?”
 
Meridian cocked his head. “Would you attempt to take him?”
 
“Point taken,” she said, and walked into the market.
 
Meridian placed the seal of the regent onto the saddle. Even if the threat of Oros would not stop a thief, the threat of imprisonment or of being hanged by the king’s court probably would.
 
Kala inspected fruit, and asked the old farmer’s wife about healing herbs as Meridian made his way through the market, putting off hawkers that tried to sell him inferior blades and shoddy pieces of armor. He had no patience for places like this, nor the crowds that frequented them. If he had need of anything, he purchased it, and then departed, the quicker the better.
 
So why am I here? He asked himself. Do not be a dolt, he told himself. You know exactly why you stopped here. He glanced at Kala to make sure she was safe. Gods, he thought. Do I truly want this?
 
Kala spotted a table that held numerous arrows. She inspected them, checking the fletching and tips for damage; most were. She did find five that were in very good condition, and now bartered with the young boy on the price for the five she had chosen.
 
Meridian felt the horses approach before he saw the riders. By the time they reached the market, he had made his way to Kala.
“Pay him now,” he said quietly.
 
Kala handed the boy two copper coins and scooped up the arrows. “What is it?” she asked as he led them to a low canvas.
 
He pulled her backwards under the canvas and pointed. “Look.” 
 
Six men on sweaty horses were sitting were Oros and Vigilo were tied off. One man leaned over and looked at something, and then looked toward the market, scanning it.
 
Meridian knelt, pulling Kala down. “String your bow, quickly.”
 
Kala did so. “Who are they,” she whispered.
 
“They are criminals. I know them, that one, anyway.”
 
He nodded to the one now directing the others. Three of the men tied off their horses and poured water from the barrels into buckets near the rail. Their tired horses drank deeply.
 
“Kala – three men: Red sash, long beard with a knot, fat and ugly.”
 
With every description, Meridian held up one more finger. Kala nodded, and watched them make their way slowly through the market.
 
“Stay in the rear of the canvas. If one of them sticks his head in, skewer it. Don't move unless you have to. If you have to, drop the canvas when you move.
 
She nodded. “What are your plans?” she asked, nocking an arrow and placing one of her short blades in the rear of her belt.
 
“I'm going to speak to one of them.” He winked and kissed her, and was gone.
 
Kala grinned and touched her cheek, then smoothly slid another arrow into her boot.
 
 
 
Meridian knelt below the table, watching the legs pass by in front of his position. A long sash, red and dirty, came into view. He slid forward under the table and grabbed red sash by both of his legs. He yanked back wards, and the assassin was on the ground in front of him. Meridian's knife was at his throat in a flash, and he put his finger to the man's lips.
“Offa?” he asked the man.
 
The man said nothing.
 
Meridian placed the blade of his knife against the man's nose and pushed.
 
The man's eyes went wide. “No, no, no! The queen–it was the queen!”
 
“Cynethryth sent you.” It was not a question. “Why?
 
The man exhaled. “The girl; she sent us for the girl.”
 
“For the girl. To do... what?”
 
The man quickly glanced left and right, looking for his companions.
 
Meridian cut his nose just enough to get his attention, clamping his hand over the man's mouth as he did it. “No time for this,” he said, gripping the blade for a killing thrust. The man shook his head violently and tried to speak through Meridian's hand. He lifted it slightly and raised his eyebrows at the man.
 
“The queen wants the girl dead.”
 
Meridian darkened. “And you would oblige her.”
 
The man started to say something else when Meridian cut his throat, then quickly dragged him further back into the stall.
 
He moved again, staying with the flow of traffic, his head down and shoulders slumped. He spotted Kala's canvas, still up. He glanced toward the horses. Only two men were there that he could see.
 
A large hand was slapped on his shoulder, and he spun to his left with his left hand holding the blade low. He felt the blade connect with another, and he grabbed the sleeve of the ugly, fat assassin, preventing himself from being stabbed. The second assassin saw now what was about to happen and opened his mouth to shout a warning to his friends. Meridian's blade slammed into the underside of the man's jaw, ripping up and stopping inside of his skull. Meridian twisted the blade trying to free it, and the man's face turned from side to side like a marionette. He yanked his knife free, letting the body fall. Screams–many and all at once, followed by many more, and then panic.
 
 
 
Kala knelt watching the lower halves of patrons as they ran by her position. Meridian has probably killed one or more of them, she thought.
There, to her right, someone was stopped–someone was facing her position. She drew the strong bow back smoothly. She held the arrow to her pursed lips. A long beard and dirty hands appeared under the low canvas. He grinned a stupid, horrible grin at her, before he saw what faced him, then his eyes went wide.
The Young Lass whispered his name, and the arrow smashed into his skull just above his dull eyes. The impact snapped his head backward and took him off his feet, long beard flailing. He was dead before his body fell. Kala quickly removed a second arrow from her right boot, and nocked it. She had not moved even slightly from her position.
 
Meridian watched the horseman. He still sat next to Oros, who was obviously not amused by the stranger's presence. He turned and tried to bite the man's horse, this caused the other horse to flinch and try to buck. The man slashed at Oros with a whip handle.
Meridian growled a curse, and ducked behind a group of carts. Vegetables and straw hid him from view as he carefully crept his way to the horseman's position. He drew his long sword before stepping onto the road. The horseman saw him and reined his mount toward Meridian, who ducked under the rail and tried to untie Oros. The assassin raised his sword to slash at Oros, but Meridian saw the man's intention and dove onto Oros’s back, blocking the blade from striking Oros’s neck. Rolling across the horse, Meridian kicked the other horse and yelled, which caused the horse to buck again. Meridian jammed his knife blade into the assassin’s leg, yanking downward. The man yelled and tried to stab his sword at Meridian's head, but Meridian was already under the horse’s neck. He grabbed the reins and slashed the retaining lead that held them. The assassin now had no control of the animal, and a badly injured leg. He tried to force the horse to run, kicking him, but the horse bucked again.
 
The assassin was thrown from the horse, and landed on the hard road. Meridian was about to drive his sword into the assassin when Oros whinnied and tried to rear up. Meridian moved, but the assassin's blade slid along his left side, cutting through his heavy shirt and opening a long gash along his ribs. He spun, swinging the sword at where the attacker's head should have been, but the last man had already ducked and was about to stab Meridian through the chest with a long knife. Meridian's right hand trailed behind the long sword, still holding the long blade. He cut horizontally across the assassin's arm, but the man did not stop his attack. He stabbed upwards at Meridian's face and missed only by a breath. Meridian slashed the man across the head and started a downswing with his sword, but the man gasped and fell forward onto the road with an arrow in his back.
 
Meridian saw Kala near the carts, not twenty paces away. Another arrow was nocked and ready.
 
She glanced around then back to him. “Is that all of them?” she asked, still holding the arrow nocked.
 
“No, two are dead in the market, and these two.”
 
“Three in the market. Long beard was a bit nosy.”
 
“There is one left,” He indicated the leader. “He won't be here much longer.”
 
It was true. A large pool of blood was already formed around the man's wounded leg. He was shaking and he had lost most of his coloring; not more than a few minutes left for him.
 
“Motherless dog tried to kill Oros,” he said, stepping toward the assassin.
 
“Meridian,” Kala said sharply.
 
He turned to her, and she nodded to one of the carts. A young man stood behind it; he looked very frightened.
 
“That is him,” Meridian growled. He started toward the man who now flashed wide eyes and a panicked look. “Run, and she with turn you into a porcupine,” he shouted at the last assassin.
 
The tall, young man raised his hands and started talking very fast. “I did nothing! I was made to come with them!”
 
“Yes–and now you will pay for it.” Meridian drew his knife.
 
Kala ran to his side. “No! He is a boy, or near enough to it. There is no need to do this.”
 
“He was sent to kill you!” Meridian roared.
 
Kala was taken aback. She looked at the young man, her mouth open and eyes blinking. “You were sent... to kill me?”
 
“Care to offer a guess?” Meridian said dramatically.
 
Kala looked incredulous. “Treacherous bitch!” Kala spat.
 
Meridian touched his nose with the point of his knife, whereupon Kala gasped.
 
“Dear God! You are bleeding like mad!”
 
“It can wait.” He again went after the last man, and Kala grabbed his arm stopping him.
 
“You will not do this. You are not a murderer. Stop it!”
 
The man took this moment to offer more of his story. “One of the men that went in after you–in the market; he was my uncle. He forced me to accompany them on their doings. I am a herder! I am not an assassin! My mother died nearly two years ago and that bastard kept forcing me to– He killed a sheep or goat every time I refused him! Killing him was a service to me. Please–you must believe me!”
 
Kala gave him a look that Meridian would see many times in their long lives together, and he knew the meaning.
 
“Fine,” he said to the man. He turned and looked at Kala. “Fine.” He turned back to the young man. “I have a long memory,” he growled, and held his eyes on the boy for a long moment before walking back to where Oros was straining at his ties.
 
Kala looked at the young man. “Very long,” she said, and turned away as well.
 
 
Kala went back into the market to retrieve their saddle bags. Luckily, in the panic no one took the time to steal them from their hiding place under the canvas. As Kala came out of the market area, she saw several horsemen appear on the road from the north. She spotted Captain Othen and let out a sigh of relief.
 
“It appears that we were only moments too late to assist you,” Othen was telling Meridian. “Pity,” he added, touching the dead man on the road in a large pool of blood, and glancing at the other with an arrow in his back.
 
“How many in all?” Othen asked.
 
“Five.”
 
“Six were dispatched,” Othen said suspiciously.
 
“Captain,” Kala said, dropping the bags near Vigilo.
 
“Ahhhh–My flower!” Othen gushed, embracing Kala roughly.
 
“Very good to see you as well Captain Othen,” Kala replied laughing.
 
“Could I get a bit of assistance here?” Meridian pointed at his wound.
 
“Such a girl he can be at times,” Othen whispered to Kala.
 
“The other one is not an assassin; he is a boy, dragged along by his uncle who lies there in the market with a cut throat.”
Meridian said this while removing his shirt and showing a nasty gash on his ribs. “Bastard,” he growled.
 
Kala looked at the wound and opened it carefully. This caused a number of expletives from Meridian. Othen watched her as she opened one of the saddle bags. Girl, he mouthed to her. She giggled, and prepared the wound for stitching. 
 
A short while later, Meridian's wound was stitched and covered. It was a bad location for a cut; every move pulled the stitches and started the wound bleeding again. The paste would help seal it, but Meridian would need to take care not to rip the stitches out; a hard sneeze would do it.
Othen's men searched the market and removed the bodies of the assassins, dragging them out into road. Kala tried to remove her arrow from the one man’s back, but it was lodged tightly. Meridian reached for the arrow but Kala grabbed his arm.
 
“Are you that hard-headed? Is your memory failing?”
 
Othen looked at Kala, and then at Meridian, who looked from Kala to Othen–who was now holding his lips very tightly shut. Othen grabbed the arrow and yanked. It came free from the man’s back. He flung the blood off and then tapped it several times on the side of a cart before offering it to Kala, who accepted it with two fingers and a curled lip. 
 
Meridian glared at Kala. “I am not a child,” he snarled.
 
“No–you are not, so stop behaving like one. I don't enjoy stitching your wounds. Be more careful or I will be doing it once again!” She flicked his nose with the end of her fingernail.
 
He flinched, causing Oros to flinch, which in turn caused Vigilo to flinch.
 
Kala held an open palm toward the horses. “You see what you caused?” 
 
“What? How did I cause –”
 
She was already walking back into the market. Oros snorted. Meridian watched her walk away. “Yes, I agree.”
 
 
 
Kala searched the market to make sure that she had not missed anything. She spotted the arrows scattered on the ground and gathered them up. The merchants were starting to return to the area, having scattered when the fighting began. She did not see the young boy that had sold her the arrows. She asked one of the women if they knew the boy.
 
“Coop is his name, my lady. Fine lad. No parents that I know of.”
 
Kala took three silver pennies from her vest pocket. The woman’s eyes widened. “When Coop returns, you will give him these three coins.” Kala handed her another silver penny. “I will take those potatoes, if you please.”
 
The woman handed Kala the bag, and took the four silvers. Kala then looked straight into the woman’s eyes.
“You will make sure that Cooper receives all of this payment.”
 
“Well, certainly miss! Na' trouble a’tall.”
 
Kala nodded and walked back to the road, smiling to herself. She watched Othen’s men help straighten the market tables, and the merchants had already placed their wares back into position. It was as if the attack had never occurred, the bodies never on the ground, the blood never spilled.
 
“Ready?” Meridian asked.
 
“Are you?” she returned, glancing at his ribs and bloody shirt.
 
“Nearly, I need to speak with Othen before we leave.”
 
As if on que, the captain appeared, brushing his pants free of something.
 
“What will you do with them?” Kala asked Othen, only glancing at the bodies on the road.
 
Othen looked at the dead assassins and sneered. “They will be returned to the earth, God help her. There is a monastery a few miles from here.”
 
“Aye–there is,” Meridian said.
 
“They will be buried somewhere away from this area," Othen said. "I'll send word to have a priest offer a prayer, or piss on  them; possibly both.”
 
Othen winked at Kala, who squinted her eyes at him.
 
“Either way, you have both done your part in cleansing their filthy souls, as well as making the road all the more safe for travelers.”
 
“And these horses–their gear? What of them?” Kala asked Meridian.
 
“I will take care of it,” Othen said.
 
“No,” Meridian replied. “Offer them to those here that have need of them. If a farmer cannot use a horse, well, what are we coming to?”
 
Othen gave Meridian an odd look, but agreed. He rounded up his men and then had the bodies thrown into a cart. Kala did not watch.
 
“Othen, a moment,” Meridian said. The captain leaned in close, and Meridian spoke in a low voice. “Your men–they are trusted with silence on a matter?”
 
“Under threat of my hands on their throats.”
 
“When you deliver your report to Offa, what will you tell him?”
 
Othen leaned back a bit, frowning. “Pray tell, what would your report sound like, regent?” 
 
 
Again, Kala and Meridian said their goodbyes to Othen. Again, they headed northwest along the Roman road, as Othen and his men headed back south and east. They would probably stop as soon as they were out of site of the market to bury the brigands in unmarked graves. It crossed Meridian's mind whether Othen would hold to the commitment to send word to the monastery. Either way, it mattered very little.
 
Meridian, soon after this thought– and after the third time being asked if he was going to be alright–threatened to remove Kala from her horse and spank her. She dared him to attempt it, adding that if he tore the stitches open, it would be him paying the price – not her. They turned westward at the fork, still climbing at a mild rate.
 
“What did you tell Captain Othen before we left?”
 
“His report to King Offa, I asked that he offer it as I told him.”
 
“And?”
 
“And he agreed.” Meridian waited a moment before continuing. “Go ahead and ask,” he said.
 
“What will the report be?”
 
“That Othen located the assassins, all found dead at the market. That will be easily confirmed by the merchants as well as by the bodies, if necessary. I was seen departing the market as well. I was gravely wounded and bleeding–also easily confirmed.”
 
“And I?”
 
“You were not found.” He half-smiled at her now, as if gloating that he had just beaten Queen Cynethryth, as well as having cleanly removed himself from King Offa’s service with one swift cut.
 
“You are free,” she said, smiling back.
 
He grinned at her. “Aye, that I am.” He laughed out loud, then cursed at the pain that it caused him.


Chapter 15
A Toast To Hypocrisy

By Mufasa

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.

No poems can live long or please that are written by water-drinkers
– Horace 
 
 
The monastery at Knighton was a new establishment, at least when compared to many others in the land. Offa commissioned it to be built in order to appease the local clergy as well as the archbishop, Jaenberht. It had only a temporary effect, judging by the way most of the clergy now viewed the king of Mercia.
 
The grounds stretched back into the forest, opening into a large tended area of land. The buildings themselves were of stone, with the sanctuary as the center of the three structures. There was a dormitory for the monks, and a small dining hall, but what Meridian was hungering for would not be found there. The brewery was at the rear of the grounds, and he could smell it at work. His mouth watered at the thought. 
 
A young monk stood at the main hall entrance, palms up in welcome. “Welcome, brother and sister.”
 
Meridian nodded and grimaced as he stepped down from Oros.
 
“Are you injured, brother?” the monk asked, stepping forward to help.
 
Meridian raised his hand to stop the man. “Yes, but I'll soon be well enough. A pair of rooms and a meal or two if it is available, if you please.”
 
“Yes, yes, of course,” the monk replied quickly, helping Kala remove the heavy bags and holding her hand as she stepped down.
 
Meridian did not fail to notice the young monk's eyes quickly roaming over Kala as he helped her from her horse. Meridian probably would have laughed if he had not been in so much pain. “Uh, Brother?”
 
The young monk shook himself, and sat the bags down. “Oh, forgive me. I am Brother Marcus. The Reverend Father here is Claba. Are you certain that you–”
 
“I am fine,” Meridian growled.
 
The monk shrank a bit.
 
Kala placed her hand on Meridian’s shoulder. “Do not mind him, Brother Marcus; he is injured and grumpy, and I do believe that he is craving some of your product.
 
Marcus opened the heavy wooden door to the sanctuary, showing them the prayer stone imbedded into the entry arch. Kala stepped in, knelt, and crossed herself. She placed her hand on the large stone and said a prayer. She turned to Meridian, who stood at the open door. She went to his side and placed his arm over her shoulder. He stepped in and with her help, knelt. He whispered so softly that Kala barely heard him.
 
“Sum quare verum,” he said, and crossed himself. He tried to stand on his own and this caused a quick intake of breath, which then caused an outburst that brother Marcus had never heard inside of the monastic grounds.
 
“I am sorry, Brother Marcus; as I said, he is in a great deal of pain.”
 
Marcus nodded quickly and pointed a finger at Meridian.
 
“I can help with that, I promise. Please wait here.” He hurried out of the door and into the dining hall.
 
“That went well,”Kala said.
 
Meridian glared at her, still holding on to her shoulder.
 
“I seek truth', that was your prayer?” Kala asked.
 
“Best I could do on short notice.” He shrugged.
 
He went to a nearby bench and sat, holding his ribs tenderly. He opened his shirt and saw that the blood had indeed seeped through the thick bandage that Kala had applied at the market. Not too bad considering that they were riding for three hours shortly after the fight.
 
Kala pulled the shirt open and concurred. They heard brother Marcus as he was approaching. He came through the open door followed by an older man, this one obviously a full monk. 
 
“Reverend Father, may I present–” He stumbled here. He had not bothered to ask for their names.
 
Kala stood and offered a small bow. “Reverend Father Claba, I am Kala Redway, and this grumpy gentleman is–”
 
“Regent Meridian,” he finished. “I know of you.”
 
“I am unsure whether to be humbled or afraid, Father Claba.” Meridian grimaced as he stood.
 
The older monk offered his hand to Meridian, who shook it with his own bloodied hand.
 
“My apologies, Father, we had a run in with bandits at the cross road market.”
 
“Oh my, was anyone else injured?” he asked.
 
Meridian half smiled. “Yes.”
 
“Father, can we possibly get him cleaned up? He has a bad wound on his ribs and it needs to have the dressing tended to.”
Kala wanted several things tended to before nightfall, this was the first.
 
“Of course, I am so sorry. Please, follow brother Marcus and he will show you to your rooms. You will find fresh bandages as well as medicine and water all ready for you.”
 
Brother Marcus opened a small vial, and poured a measured amount into a cup, he then brought up the large pitcher that he had come back into the sanctuary with.
 
“Ah,” Meridian smiled. “That is indeed a blessed sight, Father.”
 
“We hear that quite a bit, quite a bit indeed.”
 
The ale smelled fresh, and Meridian could tell from the sheen on the pitcher that it was chilled, probably just removed from the nearby stream. Marcus poured the ale into the cup that held the medicine, and offered it to Meridian.
 
“Bless you brother!” Meridian inhaled the liquid and held the cup to his head. “Nectar of the – sorry, father.”
 
Claba nodded, smiling.
 
They were led into the adjacent dormitory. The monk's cell was spartan, as all were. A cot, writing table and chair were the only furnishings. There were a few candles and a single oil lamp, which was lit. A wash basin and pitcher were in the corner and a single, small window let in sunlight.
 
Brother Marcus unwrapped the medicines from a cloth on the table, and took the water pitcher from its place in the corner.
 
“I will fetch fresh water for you and bring another water pitcher for the cleansing of the wound.” He paused here. “Unless you would prefer to bathe in ale remnants?”
 
Kala frowned and tilted her head. “In what?”
 
Meridian nodded to Marcus. “Yes, that will be a fine end to a busy day.” Meridian sighed.
 
Marcus headed for the cell door. “I shall see that the cistern is filled momentarily,” he said as he departed.
 
“What are you two going on about?” she asked.
 
“The ale runoff; it is hot and for some reason, seems to do well in healing wounds if one soaks in it.”
 
Kala raised her eyebrows. “Really? Can I see?”
 
Meridian laughed and winced again. “I doubt that the monks would offer their approval of you accompanying me in a soaking.”
 
Kala rolled her eyes. “I meant the runoff, dullard.”
 
Meridian patted her on the rear. “But of course you did.”
 
 
 
 
The cistern smelled like ale. Meridian soaked in the hot runoff, steam rising up gently from the amber liquid. A thin film was on the top, he scooped this into his hands and used it to scrub the dried blood from both his hands as well as his ribs. His clothes were being cleaned, and on the bench he could see a robe and towels. The robe was not brown, as the monk's robes all were, but of undyed material. At his right hand was a large cup of cold ale, and next to that was a pitcher of the same.
He closed his eyes and tried to stretch his legs out. Too short, he thought of the cistern. Ah well, we can't have everything.
 
Kala removed the saddles and gear from their horses. A different monk, one who did not offer his name, helped put the saddles into the small store house. There was no barn or stable here, she noted. The same monk helped to carry all of their gear back to their cell, where he bowed slightly, then left. Kala stood for a moment, looking at the room and its contents, then sat on the cot and sighed. She stretched out and laid her arm across her eyes. The sun coming through the small window warmed her, and she dozed. The next thing she heard was Meridian's voice, waking her.
 
“Shall I switch cells?”
 
She sat up, startled. “What? I must have–how long have you been back?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
 
“Arrived only now. You may try the cistern now if you wish. The runoff is still quite warm.”
 
“I think I'll simply wash with water,” Kala replied.
 
Meridian shrugged and drank from his cup.
 
“Is that ale?” Kala asked, reaching for his cup.
 
“Yes, I believe it is,” he replied, raising it out of her reach.
 
Kala grabbed the pitcher from the table and drank from it. She lowered the vessel and grinned. “Oh Lord in heaven, that is wonderful.”
 
“I'll drink to that.” Meridian raised his cup.
 
 
*
 
 
The evening meal was simple fare. The stew was thick, and had potatoes and meat as well as scallions. The bread was fresh, probably baked that morning. The monks also brought a single pitcher of ale to the table where Kala and Meridian sat. They were conversing with the Reverend father while they had their meal. Father Claba was doing most of the talking.
 
“Yes,” he said in response to Kala's question, “we have heard the accusations made against King Offa.”
 
The conversation had gone from what had brought the two of them here, to the reason for their leaving Gloucester. Kala had her tongue loosed a bit by the ale, and Meridian listened to her very closely now, ready to interject if it was warranted.
 
“He seems to have forsaken the one true God, and now embraces the false prophet, Mohammed. If this is proven, and it appears that it may very well be on its way, he will be condemned by the church and overthrown.”
Claba spoke these words as if they had already set the plan into motion.
 
Meridian wiped his hands and laid the cloth on the table. “Overthrown? And who would partake in this venture, Father, the church itself? Land owners? Merchants? Perhaps we shall see Charlemagne's armies brought to bare?”
 
Kala stopped eating and held her breath.
 
“Charlemagne?” Claba seemed taken aback.
 
“Offa controls the armies of all this land save for the far northern territory.” Meridian said flatly. “How is this coup supposed to take place when there is no one capable of it?”
 
Meridian sat back in his chair and placed one hand on the table. “Is it this? Is this the trinket that will set the wheels of treachery into motion?” He opened his palm and showed the gold coin of Offa. He slammed the coin down onto the wooden table, causing instant silence from the few other monks in the dining hall.
 
All eyes were now on Father Claba and Meridian.
 
“You see a great deal, my son. Perhaps you read far too much into my conversation,” Claba said this calmly.
 
“Too much, eh? You speak of betrayal by a king, and in the same breath you speak of murder. Who is the one that is doing the forsaking?”
 
Father Claba looked genuinely shocked. “My son, if the king has forsaken God then he must be removed. He cannot be allowed to rule this land.”
 
“So you have spoken with King Offa; you have met and discussed this issue whilst dining and partaking of your own ale, is this the case?”
 
“No, I have not. One need not be in the presence of the king to know his intent, or to determine whether his heart is true to God.”
 
Meridian cocked his head to one side. “Truly? Then offer your explanation for the minting of these coins, Father. Do you think Offa so foolish and brash that he would openly show faith in a god other than the One? Please, tell me what possible reason he would have for doing so.”
 
“I do not know the workings of King Offa's mind, but to do a thing such as this is paramount to blasphemy.”
 
“I see,” Meridian countered. “Yet a moment ago you said that one need not be in the presence of the king to know what is in his heart. Now you contradict yourself, Father, and plot murder on top of that.” 
 
“I do no such thing,” Claba said, becoming agitated.
 
“Ah, then you have a plan that will allow Offa to be proven guilty of heresy and also removed from power without the aid of an army, and without a drop of blood being spilled, and with no need for even one single conversation with your king. Hypocrisy should not be so easily found in a monastery.”
 
Claba stood, knocking over his chair. “God is my king! The One! He does not suffer false prophets and.. and... blasphemers!”
 
Meridian stood now as well. “Perhaps not Father, but from my understanding, he also suffers not false witness bared against your fellow man–nor does he condone murder. Perhaps you should reflect upon this before any further black marks are placed upon your name.”
 
Meridian looked directly at Claba when this last was spoken, and the Reverend Father seemed to calm. He righted his fallen chair and sat slowly down, keeping his hands in his lap. He stared at the table or at something beyond it, saying nothing for a few moments. He looked at Kala and blinked a few times, then back at Meridian.
 
“You–you are right. We have made not even an effort to speak with our king on this matter.” Claba shook his head. “Jaenberht sent word to all the clergy that King Offa had forsaken God, and now bowed and wailed to a false prophet; of course we could not abide this.”
 
“Father, don't be afraid to think for yourself, ever. You may retain your faith without allowing yourself to become a sheep, especially when the herder is but a man bent upon self-preservation of his own power.”
 
Father Claba was quiet, and nodded. “You seem to have even more depth than what I have been told of, my son. It would also seem that I have been regretfully lagging in my reflection. I shall remedy that.”
 
Meridian bowed slightly and left the table.
 
Kala's heart felt as if it was in her throat. She also excused herself and followed Meridian into the cool evening air.
 
“You certainly have a way with people.”
 
He didn't turn, but took another swallow of the ale, looking toward the road. “So I have heard.”
 
Meridian leaned against Oros, who huffed and tugged at his shirt. The horse was undoubtedly unused to the smell of ale runoff, noticeable even after Meridian had rinsed himself with clear water. Meridian held his cup, which was now empty, and scratched Oros’s ears as he talked to the horse.
 
“Kings, queens, archbishops, priests.” He set down his cup and began brushing Oros. “All are mad, Oros.”
 
“And women–do not forget women,” Kala said from the doorway.
 
Meridian turned slightly and then continued with his brushing.
 
“Indeed, Especially women. Women serve a higher purpose, at least.”
 
Kala stepped into the small building and went to Vigilo, who was a few feet away from Oros. “And what might that be?” she asked sarcastically.
 
He stopped brushing. “Well, there is the obvious.” He said this with a flourish, looking Kala up and down.
 
Kala rolled her eyes. “I think you have had a wee bit too much of the good brother’s ale.”
 
“Perhaps, but the truth is not changed by this. In fact, the truth seems to be even more prevalent upon the consumption of a few pitchers.”
 
“And how many pitchers have you emptied thus far?”
 
“I believe three, yes–three. At least my ribs are not as tender as they were earlier.”
 
“I would dare to say that the soaking helped with that, as well as the soaking of your internals.”
 
Meridian agreed. They were quiet for a few moments, simply looking at one another.
 
“I despise hypocrisy,” Meridian finally said. “Very little else do I hate with such fervor. Neither the situation nor the persons involved are of more or less import; the act is equally vile and it seldom fails to cause some degree of damage to anyone that is touched by it.”
 
Kala remained quiet, but watched him struggle with his emotions.
 
“I'm glad that you are with me,” he said. “I would not have believed that, upon seeing you holding that rock and considering hitting my horse with it.”
 
Kala came to where he was standing and scratched Oros under his jaw. “I would never hit you,” she cooed to Oros. “You are a big, handsome boy–yes you are.”
 
“If you kiss his nose again, I may be sick.”
 
She turned to him, lowering her chin. “Really–then perhaps he should not be kissed,” she said softly, and suddenly her lips were upon his.
 
Meridian was surprised, but not so much that he did not react as any man would. He took her face in both his hands and slowly returned her kiss several times over.
 
Kala finally placed her fingers over his mouth to stop him. “We are in a monastery; this is not the proper place for this,” she said.
 
She kissed his cheek and tried to leave, but Meridian grabbed her arm and turned her back to him. He kissed her once more, and touched her face and hair with his fingertips. “As you wish,” he said, obviously not happy about the decision.
 
“It is getting late, perhaps we had better get you to your room.”
 
“In a bit,” he said. “Come, let me show you something.”
 
It was well into the evening, and clouds were moving overhead, hiding the moon. They walked out onto the back grounds until they came to a low stone wall, where he lifted her up and over.
 
“Careful,” she warned, glaring.
 
He stepped over as well, and sat on the wall. “Well?” she asked.
 
Meridian pointed straight ahead of their position. “Wait, the moon has to appear.”
 
They sat on the wall for a few minutes, quietly waiting, at least until Kala started squirming. “The stones are sharp,” she mumbled, adjusting her position.
 
Meridian put his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his legs, holding her with his arms folded around her. She sat stiffly for or a moment, then relaxed, leaning back. The moonlight finally appeared. The clouds were blown open, and the scene was illuminated in slowly expanding segments. Kala gasped. The monastery sat on a hilltop; the Roman road crossed this apex of this hill. A wide expanse of fields could be seen now, a river meandered through the middle.
On the other side of the river, Kala now saw the earthen works that people were now calling Offa’s Dyke; the ditch and wall that stretched the length of the land from the far northwest to the south of Gloucester to the sea. Beyond the valley floor, the forest began, dark and foreboding, and beyond the forest was a wall of sheer rock. Kala saw what appeared to be giant boulders that had broken away and crushed the trees at the base of the fall. It looked as if from a dream; or perhaps as if drawn by an artist.
 
“That is our path,” Meridian said into her hair, “unless you have another in mind.”
 
Kala leaned back against him. She took a deep breath and then exhaled. “The cliffs, what is beyond them?”
 
He pulled her closer to him, breathing in her scent. “Something beautiful.”
 
Kala could tell that he was smiling.
 
 
*
 
Their time at the monastery passed quickly. Meridian’s wound was healing quickly. The center of the cut was the only area that had not sealed completely. Kala removed the stitches from the outer edges only, allowing the deeper area of the gash a bit more time to heal before removing them from there as well. She also wondered if the healing was due to her administrations, the soaking in the ale run off, or something more. She did know that her own body repaired itself at a very rapid rate, and there was no reason to think that Meridian’s own powers of recuperation were not equal to or greater than her own. It mattered little, he was ready to be moving again and there was no discussion to be had on the subject.
 
That morning, they had taken a last breakfast with the brothers. Father Claba, they were told, had departed on the day before for a visit with the archbishop. Both Kala and Meridian had commented that they would have loved to have attended that meeting, if only to observe. The donation that had been made to the monastery was well received by brother Marcus, and he thanked them both for their graciousness and their patronage.
 
Both Oros and Vigilo were now nervously dancing near the entrance road, eager to be off again. Brother Marcus supplied them both with satchels of food stuffs, and Meridian had even suffered Marcus to apply a blessing to their travels. Kala told Meridian that this had been very nice of him, even if he did not truly appreciate the gesture from the good brother.
 
“It's not a case of appreciation or the lack of it,” he had told her. “I simply question the value of the effort.”
 
They departed the monastery via the back grounds, with several of the brothers waving them off. They crossed the valley and upon coming to the river, saw that it had a stone pathway inlaid the width of the stream bed. It was actually under the stream, so it didn't impede the flow of water, yet allowed a smooth route across.
 
“Ingenious of the brothers, eh?” he commented.
 
Oros faltered. He was unused to having anyone on his back when streams were crossed. He was, after all, a very smart horse. Once he realized that the stream was safe, he put his head down and carefully stepped onto the stone path. Vigilo followed easily behind with Kala speaking to her all the way across. The earth here still smelled of digging, and they could see that the grasses that covered the dyke wall were newly-grown.
They turned north to locate a crossing point, an area that was purposely designed to enable horsemen and carts to be moved through. It would have been dangerous to attempt a crossing at any other point. The wall was high and the ditch on the opposite side was deep, and horses did not fare well in those conditions.
Within the hour a portal had been located, and they passed through easily. During war or times of strife, these portals would be barricaded and manned by troops from Mercia. Kala turned back to look southward down the long valley. It stretched away into the early morning mist and then faded to nothingness. Here Meridian motioned for her to come to his side.
 
“Quiet as you can be for a while,” he told her. “The passes here are usually deserted, but it pays to err on the side of caution. If I tell you to turn and run, you turn and run. No arrows–you run. Do you understand?”
 
Kala nodded.
 
He glared.
 
“I understand,” she said.
 
“Head for the portal; I'll be behind you. Oros is fast but she is faster,” he said, motioning to Vigilo.
 
Once more Kala nodded.
 
“Ready?” he asked.
 
Kala adjusted her blades and shrugged her shoulders. “Ready.”


Chapter 16
A Race Against Death

By Mufasa

The forest was ancient, stretching the length of the wide valley and upwards to the high rock face where it thinned, quickly and dramatically. The mist was still heavy in here, and it was deathly quiet once under the trees; at least it was once the squirrel sentinels decided that their alarms had been sufficiently sounded. The horses' hooves made little noise on the thick carpet of needles and leaves. It was as if they also sensed that it was prudent to remain silent.
 
Meridian led them up through the path of least resistance as he watched for any sign of recent passage. He saw none thus far. They came to a stream that fed from up higher, out of their view. He raised his hand and motioned for Kala to stay still. He turned Oros sharply and led them away from the stream, threading their way through a more difficult route to gain the incline. Once over the rise and onto an expanse of reasonably flat ground, he stepped down from Oros.
 
Kala followed his actions and came close to his side. “Why did we not cross the stream?”
 
“If you were to make camp here,” he asked, “where would you do so?”
 
Kala raised her eyebrows and nodded to show that she understood.
 
He nodded back. “The mist is thinning. We're getting close to the cliffs.”
 
They were. The shale debris began as single sheets and pieces of rubble. The higher they climbed, the larger they became, and the more often they would appear. Oros slipped once and Meridian dismounted, as did Kala. They again turned north, and carefully lead the horses. For the next few hours, they slowly made their way through the debris field. The mist burned away, and the sun warmed them now as they sat and drank from the water skins. Kala poured water into Meridian’s hands as both horses drank.
 
“We'll cross a stream before we go through the pass,” he told Kala. “They can drink their fill there, and we can refill the skins.”
 
Kala checked Vigilo’s hooves and legs, as did Meridian for Oros. Kala looked back over the forest. The wind was moving through the trees, causing them to sway and sigh. Creaking and stretching of the wood could be heard at a distance. All sounds here were bounced back from the sheer rock face to their left. She removed the silver band from her hair and shook her head, scratching vigorously with her fingertips. She pulled her hair back and replaced the band, and realized Meridian was watching her.
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing,” he replied, “just looking at you.”
 
She adjusted the sword between her shoulders. “Are you in pain?”
 
“Very little,” he said offhandedly. “Not exactly the easiest terrain to be negotiating. We'll soon be done with this.”
 
Kala looked south along the cliff face. It ran nearly flat for several hundred strides, and then cut back to the west, disappearing around at the corner.
 
“It is beautiful here; peaceful. I don't mind the trouble. It's as if we are alone in the world.”
 
Meridian looked out across the tree tops and down into the valley that they had crossed that morning. He nodded his head slowly, as if he were hearing something far away. “Yes,” he whispered, “it is.”
 
 
*
 
 
The sound of the waterfall could be heard long before they reached it. It was actually two falls; the first from the north side of the pass, plummeting from the high escarpment. It had bored out a channel in the rock below the main fall. The second was at their level, where it pooled and then spilled its way down through the forest and into the valley below.
 
Meridian stopped and raised his voice over the sound. “The way here is dangerous – very slick. We can't cross on the south side because of that.” He pointed to a fall that had blocked the southern wall of the pass. “I'll take both horses over first.”
 
Kala nodded.
 
He stepped into the pool, skirting the edge so that he would not be in deep water. Oros stepped carefully around the boulders and debris, going slowly as Meridian led him through to the other side. They cleared the pool and Oros started grazing on the tall grasses that grew along the banks. Meridian waded back and took the reins from Kala.
 
“Stay far back from her,” he told her.
 
Kala nodded her understanding.
 
Vigilo shied from the water, or perhaps it was the roar of the falls. Meridian saw her raise her ears when he tried to take her into the pool. He stopped then patted her neck, talking to her. He waited a few moments then tugged the reins, but he saw her ears go back. He had time to step aside as the horse reared and yanked the reins from his hand. Her rear hooves slipped on the rocks, and she fell into the pool.
 
Kala screamed and started into the water, but she was stopped by Meridian's shout. He dove in and came up in front of Vigilo’s head. He was able to grab the wet reins and swam to his right, staying clear of the front hooves. When his feet hit the rocks below, he swam to his right again as the horse scrambled out of the water in a panic. She fought her way up the steep side, and over the top. Meridian waded back to the area where he had taken Oros through. Kala was already there. She went to Vigilo and checked her legs and hooves for injury. The horse seemed to be unscathed, but Kala's saddle and all of her gear was soaked.
 
“Is she fit?” Meridian asked.
 
“I believe so, but everything is wet.”
 
Meridian climbed into his saddle, dripping cold water. “Up. It's a race now. We cannot be here after nightfall. We must be off this mountain.”
 
Kala’s heart dropped.
 
“You follow exactly in my tracks. If you start to fall behind, you stop and shout. Understood?”
 
“Go!” she shouted.
 
Their descent down the mountain was a nightmare of sharp rocks and steep, near non-existent trail. Meridian led them through the fall without incident, and now they were in a lower, relatively smooth area just outside of the debris field. The forest was thin on this side of the pass, and there was no shelter. He led them to a thin stand of fir trees and let Oros roam among them.
 
“Off, quickly.” He motioned for Kala to step down. He knew that she would be stiff from the cold, and held her arms as she hopped out of the wet saddle. “Tie her off in the trees and help me,” he said.
 
Kala did this, and returned to where Meridian was placing stones in a curved line on the ground.
 
“Just as I am doing,” he said. “Stack them in a half-circle. We have to get our clothes and at least one of the blankets dry. If the winds pick up, we will die here.”
 
Kala ran here and there gathering large stones and shale fall, until Meridian told her to find tender and firewood. She went into the trees and returned with an armload of straw and small branches. She dropped them near the stones and went back into the trees, only stopping to pull her sword from the wet scabbard. By the time she returned with the wood, Meridian had built up a small wall in a half-circle, with another pile of stones just inside of that.
 
“Here,” he said, “cut some of the larger branches down to fit in here, then larger to form around that.”
 
He placed a small pile of the tender and straw onto the flat shale, and struck the flint with his knife. It would not spark.
 
“Wait!” Kala interjected.
 
She ran to her gear bags and returned with one of her sealed sacks. She then shredded it with her knife and placed the cloth onto the tender pile.
“Try that.”
 
Meridian struck the flint again. Nothing. He scratched the flint once more and the cloth caught the tiny sparks. The cloth popped and changed color as it burned.
 
Kala let out what sounded like a battle cry. Meridian stared at her, shaking his head.
 
The fire continued to grow as Meridian carefully added more fuel. Within a few minutes, a roaring blaze had been created.
 
“This will be seen,” Kala said.
 
“Doubtful, on this side of the pass.”
 
He went to Oros, who stood near the warmth of the fire. The saddle and gear were removed and placed at the rear wall of stones, and the blankets were placed directly onto the front circle of stones.
 
“Your shirt and vest,” he told her, “remove them.” He said this even as he removed his own shirts and placed them onto the front stones.
 
Kala hesitated, then started undressing, knowing that she had no choice.
 
“We are both plenty old enough,” he said, winking at her.
 
They kept the fire as big as they could stand to be near it, and within a few minutes their shirts were nearly dry. Meridian added more stones to the rear wall, and cut fir branches to stack in the gaps on both sides of the fire pit. Both horses were now standing near the fire, and had to be dry by now. Kala tied them off in the nearby trees. It was nearly dark now, and Kala's rear end was itching and cold.
 
“Take off the breeches.” He was holding up one of the blankets in front of him, nearly dried.
 
“You will look,” Kala said.
 
“Without doubt.”
 
She stiffly undressed and handed him the breeches as he handed her the blanket. He then took the other blanket and repeated the process with his pants. He sat after having placed another stack of wood onto the fire. Kala sat near him, trying wrap herself in the small blanket.
 
Meridian moved his saddle closer to his back, and motioned for Kala to sit in front of him. “Lean back,” he told her.
 
She pulled the blanket up and leaned against him. He pulled his own blanket over them both and wrapped his arms around her. They sat silently for a while, soaking up the heat.
 
“You did very well today,” Meridian finally said. “What we came through was a difficult and dangerous venture, even before being soaked and nearly dying from cold.”
 
She relaxed further and laid her head on his arm. “What you said at the monastery,” Kala whispered. “You told me that you were glad that I was with you.”
 
Meridian nodded so that she could feel it.
 
“I'm glad that I am with you as well.”
 
 
The night was not too miserable. The fire had heated the stones beneath them, and the blankets that had been in Kala’s pack were now dry. Her saddle blanket was still quite damp, but perhaps by morning it would be at least dry enough to ride upon. The saddle would need to be treated with oils as soon as possible to prevent it from cracking and ruining the leather. Meridian’s blankets had been folded and placed beneath them, and their clothing was dry as well. The fire still burned as both he and Kala took turns adding wood to the blaze. The hot embers had formed a glowing mound upon the flat shale stones. The stones radiated heat, causing vapor to rise from the ground. Both travellers finally slept.
 
At some point during the night, the horses had awakened him, either hearing or smelling something that they did not care for. He remained awake for quite some time after that, and pulled Kala to him to keep her warm.  For a moment, he considered their situation, and felt the heat run through him. He gently traced her long legs with his hands. We are in open country, in near freezing conditions, surrounded by hot stones that could fall at any moment. The desire was pushed from his mind, but not without great effort.
 
Before morning, Meridian was nudged awake by a large, hairy, nose. He groggily rubbed the nose and shook the warm body that was curled in front of his own. Kala pulled the blankets tighter and said something that was too muffled to understand. Meridian held her for a few minutes more, then rose and walked into the stand of trees to relieve himself. Oros followed, seeking treats or perhaps huffing his readiness to be moving from this spot. Meridian took a few moments to listen to the forest, seeking any tell-tale sign that they were not alone. The birds were just waking as the sky turned from darkness to the gray before dawn. Kala was still completely covered in blankets when he shook her.
 
“Come – we need to be on our way. We have a full day of travel awaiting us.”
 
She stirred only slightly.
 
“You are naked,” he whispered into the blankets where her head should be.
 
A mop of dark hair appeared from beneath the blankets. She quickly ducked her head under and then back out. “Ass,” she said.
 
“Aye, that did cross my mind.”
 
They repacked their gear which had all dried except for Kala’s saddle, but it was enough that it would not cause Vigilo’s back any discomfort. By the time the first rays of sunlight crossed the valley, they were moving through the forest.
 
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
 
“Yes, finally.”
 
“I don't remember going to sleep, but I remember waking and placing more wood onto the fire. We did well with that, did we not?”
 
“We were lucky,” he replied. “We were in great danger of dying here. But yes, we did quite well. A proper bed would have been welcome, though.”
 
Kala looked straight ahead as she replied. “Yes–yes, that would have been most… welcome.” She finally looked at him, and they both grinned.
 
 
The day was clear and cool; very still. The forest here was small compared to that on the other side of the pass, and they were through it quickly. The trail they were on now was overgrown with grass. No sign of passage of anything other than deer and pigs. Meridian relaxed his guard and actually dozed in the saddle, waking when Kala spoke.
 
“Westbrook.”
 
Meridian raised his head, coming awake and looking about.
 
“What? What is it?”
 
“My family name, it is Westbrook. I haven't thought to speak of it since we departed Gloucester.”
 
Meridian rubbed his eyes and scratched at his stubbly beard. “I see,” he cleared his throat. “Redway was a family that I knew on the western coast of Powys. I thought it fitting.”
 
Kala nodded. “My family never left one area in three generations, not until I decided to set out exploring. My father was very good with horses, as well as designing things and making them work. That part was true.”
 
“And your mother?”
 
“Took care of us. I had two siblings.” Kala's voice held sadness.
 
“Two? Were they–” Meridian started.
 
“No,” she said. “They were as normal as rain. They died of fever of some sort. They never learned of me.”
 
“Your parents?”
 
“I don't know. I left them; I had to. We would all have been burned as witches had I been found out in their presence, so I left. I tried to learn word of them many times. Letters would have done no good, neither of them could read the words nor write them to respond. For years after, I questioned every trader and merchant; every person that I encountered that mentioned the west. None knew of their fate. That was many years ago.”
 
“Yet it burns as if someone pierced your heart with a hot blade only moments ago.” Meridian said this quietly and while looking at her. “We have that in common,” he said. “There is little else you could have done.”
 
Kala tried to smile but could not summon it. She nodded, and slowly retreated back to her own thoughts. A moment later, she saw what lay beyond the forest.


Chapter 17
Home

By Mufasa

The lake seemed a giant mirror. No ripple marred its surface. Together with the sky, it appeared to the onlooker as one unimaginably large painting; as though one half had been folded upward and stood on end. Stretching far away into the valley, the lake was flanked by tall cliff faces, and fallen scree could be seen on both sides. Kala saw no passes other than the one they entered through.
Giant boulders jutted out of the lake at various locations, obviously fallen from the cliff faces thousands, perhaps millions of years ago. Near the lake center was a small island of rock. A single, ancient, pine grew there, its roots splitting and pushing the rock apart to gain a hold.
 
Kala could not take her eyes from the lake, and she found herself thinking that she had never seen a more perfect place.
 
“What do you think?” Meridian smirked.
 
Kala slowly shook her head. “It is – it is – ”
 
“To describe it as beautiful doesn't really seem adequate, does it?”
 
“No,” she whispered. “You were right, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
 
Meridian led them to the west side of the lake. The trees skirted the shore, fighting to retain their grip in the rocky ground, which angled upward into the cliff face.
 
“Is anyone here? Has no one made this their home?”
 
Meridian pulled Oros’s reins. He pointed along the line of trees to an unbelievably large section of the cliff face that had sheared from the wall and slammed into the earth, remaining mostly intact.
 
“That I know of?” he said, “only myself.”
 
The rock was immense. In its falling, it had formed a smaller wall next to the cliff face. The scree had filled the space between the face and the rock, this blocking any further debris from rolling down from the cliff. Beyond that, were the ruins.
 
"What is this place?” Kala asked, stepping down from Vigilo.
 
“There were many Legions of Rome in this land. Some were tasked with the building of supply depots as well as permanent encampments.”
 
Meridian stepped down as well.
 
“This was one such depot. An unlimited supply of fresh water, game, fish, fuel for fires and forges, and stone for cutting and building.”
 
Kala walked along the smooth walls and marveled at the craftsmanship of the Roman stone masons. The stone was fitted so perfectly that even a blade of grass could not be wedged into the seams.
 
“There was no ash here so that they could form cement. They were forced to cut and place the stone. It was not an easy task.”
 
“Perhaps not,” Kala noted, “but it will last for a thousand years.”
 
She ran her hands along the smooth stones. They were standing in a section of the depot that had lost its roof, but the rubble had been cleared away and stacked in locations around the area, forming a defensive position. Beyond this was the main building, and Kala recognized recent repairs to the slate tiles that made up the roof. The roof itself was hidden by the evergreens. One could be steps away from this building and not see it. The entire structure, even the broken ruins, appeared to simply grow from the land. The stones were covered with the green and brown mosses that grew upon everything in this land, and the ruins seemed to whisper in an ancient voice.
 
“Were you here?” Kala still whispered.
 
“No,” Meridian said. “The task was laid to the Ninth Legion, but it was never completed. As fate would have it, they were needed elsewhere. They abandoned the valley altogether, and marched over the same pass that we came through. The fall was not there at that time, and they were gone from this place very quickly; they never returned.”
 
Kala noted that there was an odd tone in his voice when he spoke of these Romans.
 
“What else? There is something more that you are not speaking of, is there not?”
 
Meridian touched the stones. “The Ninth Legion was under the command of Petilius Cerealis. It was dispatched to put down an uprising in the far north. The Legion was to relieve Boudica's siege of Camulodunum.”
 
“Boudica?”
 
“The Queen of the Iseni–Northern Celts. Boudica led the uprising, and her people – her warriors, they followed her commands without question.”
 
“She sounds like a great warrior. What of the Legion?”
 
“She was a fool," he replied, "and they were never seen again. The disappearance of an entire Legion; it was unheard of.”
 
“Surely someone knows of their fate.” Kala frowned as she said this.
 
“It's a story still told to children. It is embellished upon at every camp fire. The destruction of an entire Legion at the hands of savages who were led by a mysterious, Celtic queen; the stuff of nightmares and bedtime stories. There are theories and outright lies. Dragons, mists, or the hand of God. Magic, or spirits, or demons from the Celtic highlands; take your pick. The truth is no doubt something far more mundane and far less mysterious.”
 
“For example?”
 
“They walked into a trap and were slaughtered by the Celts, or at least a great many of their numbers. The ones remaining escaped and were relocated elsewhere. It isn't unusual – I mean – it wasn't unusual for any Legion to be moved at a moment's notice. Many times, a Legion was ordered to be on a different continent more than once in a year’s time. The truth may never be fully known, but I am certain that there is nothing of magic or sorcerers or of dragons, or even of a Celtic witch that caused their loss.”
 
Kala sat on a low wall and removed her sword and sheath. “You say this as if you were there.”
 
“No, but I have seen much, and I know that men will imagine what they will to fill the void of not knowing.”
 
Kala removed her outer vest and then the two blades in her belt. “Is that the reason that you do not believe in the One God?”
 
Meridian frowned at her question. “At what point did you reach that conclusion? Have I at any time told you this?”
 
“No, I suppose you haven't, but–”
 
“Then do not assume to think for me.” He removed his gear from Oros and unbuckled his saddle, setting it and the heavy blanket on the nearby wall. “Go get water,” he told Oros, tapping his rump.
 
The big horse headed down the length of one wall in the direction of the lake.
 
“He understands language,” Kala said flatly. “I knew it.”
 
“He's been here before, and he has a very good nose. There's a trail on this side, see?”
 
Kala leaned and looked over the low wall. Sure enough, a path cut through the trees. It wound to the left so that anyone approaching straight on from the lake could not see the ruins.
She removed her own saddle and the rest of her gear. She led Vigilo to the path and tapped her rear. The horse ambled down the path behind Oros.
 
“Will they be safe?”
 
“Would you –” he began.
 
“Approach Oros. Yes, I know.”
 
Kala came to his side. “I'm sorry. I don't assume to read your thoughts, only your words. You seem to show little belief in any deity.”
 
“And there are reasons for that,” he said a bit sharply. “Perhaps the day will come when you also will question the reasoning and motives of this one god.”
 
“So you do believe in Him.”
 
Meridian raised his hands. “I don't know, Kala. It is an absurd notion, do you not think?”
 
“In what way? To believe in something that we cannot see or touch? You can't see the wind as it chases through the tree tops or on the surface of the water, yet we know that it is there.”
 
“The wind. You argue that a being exists because there is wind?”
 
“Don't be an ass. It's an example and you know this.”
 
“In your years,” he said, “you have seen tragedy; you have seen children murdered or dying from illnesses that cannot be cured. Your own siblings were victims of some unknown illness. Your parent's fate is unknown, and then to suffer through what you did at the hands of the animals of the north. To say nothing of the immeasurable loss of life that has come from the belief in this one god.”
 
Meridian took pause here and rolled his shoulders. “Do you realize that if the Emperor Constantine had not been victorious when he faced Maxentius' forces nearly five hundred years hence, it is doubtful that Christianity would even still exist?”
 
Kala remained silent.
 
“I ask no proof from you, Kala. I ask no advice on this matter from you or anyone. I have seen many lifetimes of murder and much worse in the name of this belief. Even now it's considered a crime against the church to offer even an opinion other than what is spat out by these fat, pompous, bastards. They live so richly in their marbled halls, self-righteous and hypocritical, doling out their laws and their punishments for the taking of a loaf of bread unpaid for. They do this while committing acts far more evil than any that they have passed their judgment upon.”
 
“Not all are of that nature.”
 
“Perhaps not,” Meridian sneered, “but it takes but one. I promise you there are far more than that.”
 
“So you believe in nothing then?”
 
“Oh, I believe. I believe that men may find any action justified simply by sticking a cross on it and calling it the will of God. I believe that the followers of the Christian god, as well as those of Islam, will be the cause of far more bloodshed than we have seen thus far. And I believe that as long as one man has a thing that another covets, war will ravage this world like a plague. The idea of a peaceful and forgiving god may be well and good, but men are neither peaceful nor are they forgiving. They are envious and war-like and lustful, both for gold as well as power. They will do what they will to attain both, and with little thought to a brother or a god – whichever one they feel inclined to call upon.”
 
Kala studied him. “What happened to you? What has made you this way?”
 
Meridian stood, brushing the dust from his clothing. He started toward the entry of the main building, but stopped and looked stonily at Kala. “Time.”
 
He began removing stones from the entryway. The door had been blocked, preventing rodents or larger animals from entering. The ever-present moss grew on the stones here as well, so that Meridian knew that the door had not been opened since he was last in this valley.
Kala began helping after she realized what he was doing. She glared at him once again when he cursed upon lifting a large stone, and probably pulling a stitch.
 
The stones were quickly set aside and he pulled the simple latch to one side with a loud thunk. He shoved on the door and it opened easily inward.
 
“My flint, please.”
 
Kala handed him one of the saddle bags. As the ancient door opened, Kala felt the centuries float outward from the room. She felt her heart racing, and her nails bit into her palms. She realized that she had stepped back from the entry, and she inhaled deeply to calm herself.
 
Dear God, she thought. This is ancient–so old. A riot of emotions raced through her. She suddenly felt very young and very vulnerable.
 
She stepped into the room. It was much larger than it appeared from the outside, but she had not walked around the ruins to be able to accurately judge its size. The floor was dark slate, and fitted far better than she would have believed. She reminded herself of the exacting fit of the outer wall stones. The inner walls were built of both stone and timber. There was a patched area that had, at one point, probably been a window. A single, squared, ceiling beam ran the length of the room and was suspended on both ends by thick timbers. Another beam had been added to the center as well, but it looked far newer. There were many shelves on both sides; some held sealed jars and a few glass containers. Glass! How on earth did he manage those?
 
She jumped when Meridian struck the flint to the tender. A small flame. sprang up, and he ignited the large candles all around the room. There was even an oil lamp but it was dry. The fireplace was huge. It had been built of river stones and set into the far wall; it was the wall! It held all sorts of pots and pokers, and even a large spoon hanging from the metal turning rod that sat in grooved stones on either side of the walls. This was not a room for three or four soldiers, or even ten. It could have held a table that would have seated twenty men and also enough food and drink for every one of them.
 
“Damn,” Meridian said. “Come, hurry.”
 
He headed out the door and went around to the side of the building. He leaned against the chimney and motioned for her to come to him.
 
“I forgot the cap stones on the chimney. Climb up and remove them, will you?”
 
Kala looked at him as if he had grown a third eye. “Am I a squirrel?”
 
“Oh please, just do it.”
 
He lifted her onto the roof line and she scrambled up. The chimney rocks stuck out far enough to allow safe hand and foot holds, even though the stones were covered here and there with mosses. Kala was able to push the two heavy stones from the top, sending them smashing onto the rocky ground below.
 
Meridian caught her as she slid off the roof tiles.
 
“Thank you, my little squirrel,” he said, and kissed her lips. A quick kiss, that was all, but it stunned them both.
 
“Wait!” she said suddenly, pulling away.
 
“What?”
 
Kala took his hand and led him down the path to the lake.
 
“What are you doing?”
 
“The lake – is it far?” she asked.
 
“No, it's only – wait, why are we –”
 
“Just come with me!”
 
She pulled him along the path at a quick pace. She turned at one point, grinning, and he had to laugh, reaffirming to himself that all women were a bit addled. They reached the end of the path and stopped. The lake shimmered in the late afternoon sun, and they spotted the horses nearby, pulling green shoots from the water’s edge and happily munching.
 
Kala looked to the western end of the lake where the sun was still above the mountains. She shook her head and spoke a single word. “Beautiful.” She turned to Meridian and smiled.
 
Meridian raised his eyebrows. “I take it you wished to see a sunset?”
 
“Yes,” she replied, but that's not the only reason that I wanted to be here now.” She placed her arms around his neck. “I want to remember this. I want to remember that this moment happened, that this time was real and that it was important. You have lived for over eight hundred years; I have lived but eighty. Who is to say if we will see another year, or even another day?”
 
Meridian understood this and nodded. He ran his hand down the length of her hair, and touched her face with his fingertips.
 
“How did you do this for so very long?” she asked him. “How can you stand the memories? I have seen friends age, and wither, and die. I have seen children perish from illness and accident, and I have watched the world change before my eyes. I cannot begin to imagine what you must have witnessed with yours. How do you face every new day knowing that time matters nothing to you?”
 
“It matters,” he said, “It changes the world with every moment. We are simply less affected by its passing.”
 
He held her now.
 
“There are so many questions,” she said. “I've had them now for so long, and hoped they would somehow be answered. Now I see that your questions are the same as mine, even after eight centuries.”
 
“I understand what you now feel,” he said quietly. “The inability to speak the truth to anyone. To be not able to explain what we are; to be not understood by the world, and the loneliness of the years. God, the loneliness of it.”
 
He embraced her for a moment before speaking again, inhaling the scent of her throat. “The only thing that I can offer as a comfort is that we are able to experience places that hold this sort of beauty.”
 
He looked toward the lake, and at the high cliffs that ran its length on both sides. “Few can say that they have even seen this place, fewer still will be able to tell the story of the first time that they were here, five hundred years from that time.”
 
Taking her hands, he kissed them both. “There are many things yet to come,” he said. “I will help you, Kala. I will help you in all things that I am able. I shall teach you all things that you wish to learn, and I will show you all that you wish to see. I will protect you, and I will learn from you, and my hands shall never harm you. For as long as I am on this earth, this I promise you.”
 
He again touched her hair, watching her eyes as he spoke. “I only ask of you that for a time – a brief moment in time – you stay with me.”
 
Kala's response was the kiss. It would be remembered by both throughout many centuries to come. Yes, the world would move on, changing with every passing moment just as Meridian had said, but this simple kiss would be held in their memories for all of their long, long, lives.
 
The sun had barely moved from the moment they had come to this spot, but to Kala, it seemed as though it had been a great length of time. Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was no longer alone in the world. Perhaps it was knowing that there was another that held not only the equal of her knowledge, but a vast library that reached far beyond her own. Whatever the reasons may have been, the sun did still move in the sky, and the wind could be seen both in the swaying of the trees, and upon the face of the water.
 
Meridian's words echoed in her mind: “There are many things yet to come.”
 
 
 
-End
Firstborn - Alliances


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