Last Scene! Sorren felt like she was living in fast forward. She would have thought that after all was said and done, once the fury and flurry of battle had died down, things would in fact die down, or at least slow down. They didn’t. The arrow piercing Mandeville’s brain seemed to send up some unseen signal and the King’s men who’d been left on the other side of the ridge when Mandeville’s men had advanced now came pouring down into their little glade. It took McKayal some time to convince them that the battle was already in fact over, and they seemed disappointed at the quick ending. McKayal seemed perfectly willing to continue to battle them if they did not immediately relent and Preston thought it prudent to remove Sorren and their little group from the scene whilst they worked out the peace. Sorren was summarily bundled out without so much of a by-your-leave when she would rather have stayed. Preston assured her that she had done more than enough and didn’t want to chance her getting burned out, despite her protestations that she felt fine. Better than fine, actually. Wonderful. In the end he won out, mostly because her little band of followers banded together in support of Preston, and she was forced to leave. Even the boat trip back to Cambridge was accomplished more quickly than she’d have believed possible with the oarsmen rowing with lighthearted vigor. She was bustled from the river to George’s tavern, and then time seemed to stop altogether as they waited the return of their little army. Sorren dozed while Preston fitfully paced throughout the night, neither one of them able to really rest. In the morning they ate a bit and waited some more. Sometime before lunch the first sounds of jubilation reached them. They both rushed out into the street but McKayal nearly mowed them down at the door. “You’re alright!” Sorren cried, looking McKayal over from top to bottom. “What happened to your hair? “Oh.” McKayal’s hand went to her newly shorn locks. She smiled and winced as it wrinkled a purpling bruise on her cheekbone, “One of them king’s men got a little lippy, and handsy. Took hold of my braid and I told him if he didn’t let go I’d hang him with it. Couldn’t do that while it was still attached. Guess that’ll teach me to think before I talk. Alec likes it fine though. Says he’s more interested in the bottom of me than the top anyway.” “I did not actually need to know that,” Preston said. “Where’s Alec?” Sorren asked, peering into the exhausted but exuberant faces of McKayal’s army as they passed. “And Rossal, and Jenna, and everybody else? What happened?” “They’re all fine,” McKayal assured her pushing her towards the inn door. “Jenna and Jonathan and all the kids plus everybody that was with you went to the leper chapel. Alec and Rossal stayed behind to make sure Mandeville’s body was taken care of.” “I forgot about that,” said Sorren, looking at Preston. “What are they going to do with him?” “Turns out there was a bit of discussion about that,” McKayal said making her way to the barrels of ale. Sorren tried to be patient as McKayal helped herself to first one tankard, then another. She couldn’t hold out for a third. “What happened!” “Well, the King’s men wanted his body to take back to King Stephen,” she moved to the cold fireplace and drew a ladelful of cold stew up to sniff, then took a bite. “And Mandeville had a beady eyed little man named Trotworm that wanted to take his body.” “Trotwood,” Sorren corrected her. “You know him?” McKayal asked with a raised eyebrow. “Not exactly,” Sorren said. “Go on.” “Well, the little guy made a bloody big stink about getting Mandeville’s body and the King’s men almost let him have it.” “What did you do?” Sorren asked. “Alec gave a real fine speech about how Mandeville was a Knight Templar and they was brothers or something like that, and that Alec was bound by an oath to take care of the body of a fallen comrade, whether friend or foe. I tell you, that man can really spout when he’s a mind to. And it helped that Soandso was there to turn their little bit of understandin’ into a whole heap of dyin’ on your sword conviction.” “I can’t imagine Trotwood took that well.” “Nope. Little guy was near apoplectic. Especially when Alec told him they was going to do him the high honor of puttin’ him in a lead casket, then keepin’ him with them for forty years before they bury him. And even then he’ll be under constant guard for the rest of eternity. You should have seen his face! I ain’t never seen that particular shade of purple. Asked us to at least take the arrow out, but Alec said it would be a disservice to the dead. Told him not to worry, that he would only be buried in the ground long after all of us was dead, so he wouldn’t have to worry about nobody, nobody, breakin’ into that casket. Little guy puked then. They’re takin’ him to the Templar church in London now. There’s enough soldiers left who loved Alec’s father that they’ll keep watch on that casket till doomsday if necessary, though Alec says he’ll check on it now and again.” “Did Alec let Trotwood go?” Preston asked. “Yep,” McKayal nodded. “Didn’t seem like there was any reason to keep him. Besides, I don’t want to babysit Mandeville’s lapdog, do you?” Sorren shuddered. “No.” McKayal gulped down a few more mouthfuls of cold stew, then stretched. “I don’t know about you, but I’m right tuckered. May not even have enough in me to celebrate tonight,” she said. “Think I’ll catch a couple of winks before I head out to Jenna’s.” She headed for the door but Sorren grabbed her and threw her arms around her before she could protest. “Thank you,” she said. McKayal stiffened, then softened and finally hugged her back. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I don’t know what you’re thankin’ me for though. You were the one that won this war.” Sorren smiled and pulled back. “Then thank you for sticking with me.” “Got to,” McKayal said with a smile. “Your sister would kill me if I didn’t.” With that curtain dropped behind her and they heard her whistling down the street. “Shall we go too?” Preston asked, his strong arms going around Sorren. “There are a lot of people who are going to want to hear how you did that.” Sorren hesitated, resting her forehead on his chest. “There’s one thing I have to do first,” she said. “Oh?” He tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “What’s that?” “I have to kill Morah.” She waited for the storm, but it didn’t come. Preston only drew her closer, burying his face in her hair. “I won’t stop you,” he said finally. “Why not?” she asked, unsure whether to be happy or sad about that. “The past few months I’ve seen a lot of things I can neither explain, or quite believe. I am forced to admit that I do not have all of the answers. There is just too much that does not fit into my little mold of right and wrong. But I do trust you. If you tell me that this is the right thing, for you, for Morah, for all of us, I won’t stop you. I am tired. I know you are tired. I want to sit beside the fire with you for the rest of my life and never get up. Morah is thousands of years old. I can’t imagine how tired she is.” Sorren swallowed and pulled back. She drew the dagger from her side and sat down, cradling it in her hands. Morah, she thought. Are you ready? Sorren waited for an answer, so long that she began to worry that whatever had happened at the end of that battle had somehow broken Morah, but then Morah spoke. I am not ready, Morah said in a somewhat startled voice. What’s wrong? Preston asked. I’m sorry I did not answer immediately, Morah said, But I have made a rather surprising discovery! What is it? The manic edge to Morah’s voice was beginning to worry Sorren. Was Morah mad? Had it been too much for her? It isn’t madness, Morah assured her, moderating her tone. It is amazement. When you exploded that surge of power, which by the way I have never felt anything like before to my delight, my awareness burst outward too. Further than I have ever gone before. That’s wonderful, Preston thought. And that has given you a desire to live? Oh no, dear boy, Morah chuckled. I still want to die, just not yet. Something much too exciting to miss has happened. I’ve found Shu! Shu? Sorren searched her memory. The white stone? Yes! Morah’s excitement was palpable. And she’s in trouble. We’ve got to help her! At once! We must leave tonight! Sorren turned to Preston with anxious eyes. “Are you willing to forgo that fire a little longer?” Preston looked down at her. He raised his hand and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheekbone, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Only for you,” he said. “Guess we’d better go get Soandso.” ~THE END~
Posted on: Thu, 04 Jul 2013 21:35:27 +0000
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