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"Firstborn"


Chapter 1
Firstborn

By Mufasa

Northern Wales / 765 AD
A Painful Beginning
 
 
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.

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