CHAPTER 6

Ava woke groggily to a dimly lit room. The only light came from a small ray emanating from a window to her right and the soft sputtering from the fireplace at the other end of the room. Her side was still sore when she shifted, but it lacked the radiating pain from before. Slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings she was glad to note the horrid stench from before was lessened. Taking it as a good sign, she opened her eyes slowly. Photosensitive to even that small amount of light it took her a few moments to adjust. She was definitely in a different room, a different building she surmised based on the newer wood used in the walls. Despite her newer accommodations, she felt disgusting, and wondered just how long she had been unconscious. The sound of movement in the hallway reminded her sharply she was surrounded by people she could not communicate with, and people she was on a whole unable to trust. Her few moments of consciousness had always been filled with someone sitting beside her, usually Tristan or another tall bald man. They were the only two people she felt remotely safe having around her.

Minutes passed and boredom set in. Shifting her weight a little more than she had previously tried she found that the wound did not seem to pull. Taking it as a good sign that it had since healed up nicely, she slowly shifted into a sitting position. Her head spun from the movement after being stationary for so long. Her muscles groaned the entire time, but eventually functioned as she wished. Once up and settled she found herself wide-awake and able to fully survey her new room. It was reminiscent of her old college dorm room in size and starkness. The door was at the far end of the room on the left wall, feet from the fireplace. The window was sizeable and placed in the center of the wall to her right. Two chairs graced the space with their presence, one at the fire and the other positioned at one of the two small tables near the bed. The only other furniture in the room was a small chest at the foot of the bed and a wardrobe toward the door. Sparse, but better than a cell, or the infirmary she thought.

After a few moments of debate she swung her legs over the side of the bed, only then realizing she was dressed in a thin linen shift. She shivered both from the cold and the thought of some stranger undressing her without her knowledge. Not wanting to dwell on it, she again focused on her goal and shimmied forward so that she was sitting with her feet touching the cold floor. The bed was low so she figured as long as she used her weight right even if she fell it would be back into the bed. Putting one hand on the chair she pushed up off the bed and wobbled dangerously. Lurching forward she managed to get her second hand on the chair as well and steady herself. Deciding safety was more important than pride she moved the chair so that it was in front of her like a walker and began moving slowly across the room. Stopping in front of the window she turned now realizing the latch was considerably higher than she had previously thought. She cursed under her breath, she would have to let go of the chair to reach it. Positioning herself so that she would not have to move after releasing her chair she slowly let go, working her underused muscles to the extreme to keep her balance. Grasping the latch she pulled up and began to open the window.

A strong gust of wind helped her with that task, pushing in freezing air and snow. It caught her off guard and her balance was lost. She flung her arms out to try and grab anything, but only remembered hard wood before her vision went black again.

Tristan rode back through the heavy snow. Strong gusts of wind cut through the little protective clothing he was wearing. Ducking into the protection of the woods the buffeting winds and snow decreased and his line of sight was returned. White outs were a dangerous thing in his business. Woads were known to use such storms as cover for raids south of the wall. To be out isolated with no quick way for reinforcements or help could spell disaster. Isolde sat perched on the saddle in front of him, fidgety from the lack of flight. Tristan just did not have the heart to risk letting her fly in such weather.

After a few minutes the sound of talking wafted through the dense air, and he could see a small fire from between the trees. Irritation arose that the sentry had not yet noticed him. Pushing on he was nearly in the clearing before Kaan noticed him. He stood gruffly a woolen blanket falling from his shoulders, and his hair moving as one solid block of ice. He grabbed the bridle as Tristan dismounted. Isolde swept up into a nearby tree to perch. Kaan moved the horse over with the rest of the mounts before returning to his guard position.

The fire crackled dangerously and sputtered from the moisture of the wood being used. Dagonet nodded to his friend and moved over so the scout would be better able to warm by the fire. Arthur and Lancelot stood apart from the group in deep discussion over a well-worn map.

They had been out for a few days before the storm had come up. There had been reports of Woads below the wall just north of Eboracum, in larger numbers than previous years. Such a threat could not be left uninvestigated, so the Sarmatian knights had been dispatched. Tristan knew the locals would take the storm as a sign of Merlin's power. The dark magician who ruled the blue demons and ghosts could spark as much fear and awe as Arthur himself. Now they found themselves trapped two days ride from the wall, or any defensible point, and at the mercy of the elements; and if he was right also at the mercy of Merlin.

Gawain handed a hunk of bread to Tristan along with a bowl of rapidly cooling stew. Nodding his thanks he quickly consumed both before they were as frozen as he was. After a few moments rest he rose and made his way over to Arthur. Lancelot maintained his near constant scowl. If there was one thing he hated worse than Romans it was bad weather. It instilled a foul mood in him with no comparison.

"Any movement?" Arthur asked. Shuddering slightly as a particularly strong gust ripped through the woods.

"Not that I could tell. It's quiet."

"Too quiet." Lancelot added still staring at the map.

"We should get back to the wall, "Tristan said tersely, "It is too unprotected."

"You think the reports were a device to lure us away."

Tristan and Lancelot both nodded their agreements. Arthur paused a few moments. If they left and were wrong, they would all be punished for moving away from their ordered post. However, if their gut feelings were correct and they did not go the damage could be catastrophic.

"We leave within the hour."

The prospect of heading back to the wall spurred the group to be ready well before the hour was up. Driden rode out ahead of the group to scout until Arthur felt Tristan and his mount were rested enough to help with the task. They kept to the woods for as long as possible, but eventually had to break from its cover. The small group of Roman soldiers with them huddled together under the incessant onslaught. The knights stayed spread out in a more defensible position. Arthur called only a few rests during the interminable march, usually when Tristan or Driden had returned to the group to give their reports. The journey seemed never ending in the frigid world of white. Time slowed and it seemed an eternity before they finally met up with the road to the wall. Tristan and Driden had managed to direct them to within only a few leagues.

Once in the confines of the fort the wind lessened considerably, and the group disbanded; each seeking food, warmth, and rest. Arthur requested the presence of the knights later that evening, but released them from duties for the remainder of the day. They would be no use to him exhausted. Tristan made his way to Ava's room, wanting to check on her before he finally allowed himself to succumb to sleep. He knocked lightly before opening the door.

Vanora sat beside the bed eating a light lunch with Ava, who was propped up in the bed by some pillows. Ava's eyes shot up to his as he entered a few steps. Vanora smiled back towards him, and made to leave. Tristan motioned for her to stay , far to weary to spend any time himself he left swiftly. His room was just at the far end of the hall. If anything was needed Vanora would come get him before she left the barracks. Changing into clean, dry clothes he dropped into bed and was asleep within minutes. Isolde upon her perch followed shortly.

He woke abruptly, more from hunger than anything else. Isolde had woken and wormed her way out of the window at some time during his slumber. The storm had died down and it was only snowing softly.

Ava sat in her bed quietly writing down everything that had been happening to her since she had woken up in the infirmary and what had happened before she landed there. Not out of some hope it would be read, but to keep herself sane. Her stomach growled angrily, not nearly satiated from the lunch earlier. Lying in bed unconscious for a week or so was catching up with her appetite. Tristan entered this time without knocking, catching her off guard. Even through the mess of hair and dirt she could tell he was very tired. She sat the small piece of charcoal down as he made his way to the chair at her side.

Smiling faintly she managed to wrangle out a hello. Vanora was adept at taking care of her, but teaching a language from scratch was not within her grasp in between her other responsibilities. Tristan responded in like giving her the opportunity to practice it a few times, the words tumbling softly off her lips. She turned to sit the paper and coal on the table revealing a yellowed bruise on the side of her face that disappeared into her hairline.

Tristan was over and inspecting the damage before she could even blink. Anger began to well up within him, and he swore he would end whoever had dared do that to her. After a few moments, Ava batted him away, blush covering her cheeks. Tristan sat perplexed, she seemed unaffected from receiving the injury. Not the way someone would be after being attacked. Now he knew he needed to speak to Vanora. She would know what had happened.