Chapter 6: Kathryn

         The first sensation Brenan felt was the pounding in his head. He regained his senses slowly but still his ears rang with each dull thud of his own heartbeat. He tried opening his eyes but when a fragment of light leaked into his eyes, pain shot through his head and he snapped them shut again. He lay still, concentrating on the noise around him trying to make sense of the confusion and his scrambled senses. At first it was strange, muted and hollow-sounding, like voices speaking to him through a deep tunnel or under water. Slowly he was able to discern individual voices, then words and sentences.

         “...quite a rout last night!” A husky voice laughed heartily. Others joined the laughter.

         “Aye, but there are more of them now, Terreck,” replied a soft woman’s voice.

         Before he could think, Brenan’s eyes snapped open suddenly. Again, the light brought him pain, and he winced and moaned. His vision was clouded and blurry; shapes and colours blended togther in a mess of muted patterns. There was movement but could not tell who, or what, now loomed over him. The figure, a human form, was clad in grey and white, and from the noise of its approach, he guessed that the figure was clad in chain armour.

         “Kathryn, our visitor has recovered,” a man’s deep voice reported. Brenan tried to rub the blurriness from his eyes but found his hands bound. He’d not noticed the trusses before now, probably owing to the fact that both his hands and feet were quite numb. Several more armour clad men gathered around him in a circle.  Brenan strained to see his captors but their faces remained clouded. A shorter figure in brightly polished plate armour stepped into his view.

         “Well my friend,” the woman asked briskly but with curiosity in her voice, “what have you to say for yourself?” 

         Brenan blinked several times as his eyesight began to clear more quickly now. He found himself under the scrutiny of this woman’s proud but mischievous visage. Her eyes were a striking green and her face, framed by shoulder length auburn hair, was pale, finely featured and regal. Her beauty was evident for all to see but what Brenan saw in her face was commanding strength and wisdom. Whoever she was, thought Brenan, she was important and powerful, perhaps even dangerous.

         Brenan opened his mouth to reply but he choked and sputtered on his breath, his mouth and throat dry and rasping. “May I please have some water?” he croaked weakly. Hunger pains stabbed at his gut, and he quickly added, “and some food...?”

         The woman gave him a look of mild surprise that melted into an amused smirk. She and the men broke into laughter. Brenan was puzzled by their reaction.  “He’ll be alright,” she announced as she turned and began walking away. “Franz, find some food and drink for our prisoner. Mareck, cut his bonds. I doubt he’d get far even if he tried. Once he’s fed, bring him to me.”

         The crowd of warriors dispersed except for the one named Mareck. This knight was a big, burley man with a head fiery red curls with a matching beard and moustache adorning his weathered face. Mareck cut the ropes that held Brenan’s limbs secure. He chortled knowingly as Brenan rubbed some life back into his tingling hands and feet. “The feeling will return slowly, and in its own time.  Just relax.” Mareck advised, and he rose to his feet.

         “Who are you people? And where am I?” Brenan asked as he thrust himself to his feet. A wave of nausea swept suddenly over him and his legs wobbled unsteadily. They and felt as if they would melt from beneath him. Mareck caught him by the arm with a beefy hand and steadied Brenan on his feet.

         “Easy, lad.  You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.” Mareck steered Brenan though the small campsite of a dozen large, canvas tents. “All your questions will be answered in time I am sure, but for now, seat yourself there,” Mareck said, pointing at a log positioned in front of a bonfire. A second log faced them from the opposite side of the fire, and just beyond that, was one of the large tents with its front flaps drawn shut.

         Mareck sat Brenan down on the log and waved a finger at him. “Now then, be a good fellow and don’t try to run away,” he warned in a friendly but firm tone. “We have some fine archers with us who have been after us for some target practice.” 

         Brenan nodded and smiled weakly as Mareck erupted into laughter. He would not tempt fate, and for now, at least, was content to wait for his promised meal. Brenan watched Mareck leave but the rustling of the tent flaps stole his attention. Across from him, Kathryn stood in the tent doorway regarding him with curiosity. Brenan met her gaze briefly but felt himself blushing and diverted his eyes. Kathryn smiled and chuckled, and sat down on the log opposite Brenan.

         “I am Kathryn Di’ganna of Shalendon,” she reported. Brenan stared at her, expectantly.  There was silence between them for a minute before she asked, “And your name is...?”

         “B-Brenan... Brenan Draszman,” he stuttered, and then as an afterthought added, “of Khlendhar.” Immediately he felt stupid, and feared that she would think he was mocking her.

         Kathryn laughed. “Well, B-brenan Brenan Draszman of Khelendhar,” she teased, “what is your business so far from home?”

         “I am headed for Shalendon.”

         The knight  named Franz delivered a large tray of bread, cheese and dried fruit and meat to Brenan, and handed him a large metal mug of water. Brenan eyed the food.  He glanced at Kathryn who nodded at him. Brenan attacked the plate of food hungrily while Kathryn watched with curious amusement. 

         “These are dangerous times to be travelling alone, especially on such a solitary road. A smarter man would have stayed on the Highway. Is your business in Shalendon important?”

         The probing question made Brenan feel uneasy and vulnerable. He regarded Kathryn carefully for a moment. His moment of caution gave way to a sense that he could trust this Kathryn. “My business is of great personal importance.”

         Kathryn raised an eyebrow, “Forgive my boldness but what is the nature of this business?”

         Brenan washed down a mouthful of bread and cheese with the cold water,  “A friend has lately passed on and I am fulfilling a last request."

         Kathryn offered a sympathetic smile. “Please forgive me, but you see there are some intruders in the Realm who threaten our citizens. I regret this interrogation, and please accept my apologies on the loss of your friend.”

         Brenan bowed his head graciously, acknowledging her sincerity. “These intruders that you seek,” he asked without thinking, “who are they?” 
         
         Kathryn regarded him carefully for several moments before speaking. “They are from far in the north,” she replied, slowly. “Some say they are evil, magical knights raised from the grave by the Dark Ones. No one knows for certain. They have wrought terror throughout the Realm and our people fear for their lives. We seek them out so we may drive them away.”  Kathryn studied Brenan’s face curiously. When she spoke again there was an edge of suspicion to her tone,  “Why do you ask? Do you know that of which I speak?”

         “I do,” he blurted suddenly. “Last night I was pursued by two of your dark intruders. They are here in your lands.”

         Kathryn laughed.  “Last night? I am afraid you are mistaken, Brenan Draszman of Khelendhar. We have carried you unconscious for two days. I was beginning to worry that you would not recover.” She stood up directly. “No matter, this information you have provided has confirmed my fears. You will ride with us. We must break camp immediately and make for the border outpost.”

         “Border outpost?” Brenan was confused, “So, you are not headed for Shalendon?”

         “Don’t worry, you’ll get to my fair city, Brenan of Khelendhar, but perhaps by a longer road.” She turned as if to leave but then hesitated. She stooped and retrieved Brenan’s sword from behind the log and held it up for Brenan to see. “I have but one more question for you, and it concerns this.”

         Brenan tried to suppress his evident surprise. He had almost forgotten Thar’s sword. It could have been lost or stolen but Brenan had been so preoccupied by hunger and his predicament, he had not given it a single thought. At that moment there was no time for long, involved explanations, and Brenan was not about to reveal everything to this woman, at least, not yet. He stood up and smiled.

         “It is my sword. Surely you don’t expect a man to travel without a weapon for protection?” Brenan took a step towards Kathryn who held up her hand. Her soft, agreeable face hardened into a stern and cautioning look.

         Kathryn spoke slowly, choosing her words deliberately, “That answer will suffice - for now. You will find that I am fair and trusting in my dealings with those who treat me in kind. That is why, against the counsel of my men, you may have it back.” She held the sword out to him. Brenan smiled but Kathryn did not smile back. As he reached for the sword she grabbed his wrist. “A word of caution to you, Brenan Draszman of Khelendhar. I will have my eye on you, and I won’t hesitate to have you bound again if it suits me. Some of my men would have sooner kept you bound but I felt that you deserved the benefit of the doubt.” Kathryn released her grip on his arm.

         Unnerved, Brenan bowed to her. “Thank you, you are most kind to...”

         Kathryn reached forward and with her index finger under his chin she raised his face and peered into Brenan’s eyes, “I know that you have not told me the whole truth,” she whispered, and offered him a wry smile. “I believe that this blade has some significance and I will know what it is, either when you tell me or once we return to Shalendon but I will know. Do we understand each other?”

         Brenan nodded, “Yes, yes we do.”

         “Good.” Kathryn released him from gaze and waved for her bodyguard. “Franz will take you to your horse and provide you with what ever you need. We will be departing shortly, so I suggest you make your preparations quickly. Franz, take master Brenan to his horse, then tell the men to break camp. We ride in one hour.”

         Franz led Brenan away. Kathryn watched the curious young man disappear amidst the activity of the camp. He seemed innocent and naive to her but Kathryn sensed there was something hidden about him. Perhaps he was guarded, or perhaps he was deceitful. Only time would reveal his true nature. He seemed harmless enough but Kathyrn would take no chances. She would have Mareck and some others keep their eyes on him.

         Within the hour, Kathryn’s company had dismantled their camp and were under way.  The company moved swiftly through the forest along a well kept, clearly marked trail. Brenan rode silently along with the soldiers listening to their banter and embellished stories. It was strange for him to be in the company of so many others and still feel alone. They treated him kindly but he was remote from these men. Brenan was glad when the knight named Franz found him and reported that Kathryn had requested Brenan’s company at the head of the column with her. He found it odd that she had extended such an invitation to him when she so clearly mistrusted him. Still, the request cheered him greatly and he took no time advancing to front of the long column of riders. He found Kathryn very easy to talk to, and the two spent the rest of the morning in idle conversation.

         By mid afternoon the company had left the forest and made their way down a long slope of grassland to the floor of the river valley. They were able to move more swiftly now and Brenan and Kathryn let their chatter fall into silence as each concentrated on riding. The air was calm and warm in the valley. Grey thunder clouds lurked ominously on the northeastern horizon. In the distance murmurs of thunder and occasional streaks of jagged lightning heralded a storm’s advance along the river valley.

         The miles and time wore on, and by late afternoon the sun had been swallowed up by the encroaching thunder clouds. The plains appeared now dull and colourless in the sallow light, and a wind arisen and drifted in gusts across the flats.  He studied the pallid monotony of the overcast sky, then pulled his hood closer in defence against the impending chill of the rain that would soon fall. A shout from ahead diverted his attention from the weather. Kathryn and Franz rode forward to greet a party of scouts. Brenan surmised from the heraldry on their surcoats that they were more soldiers of Shalendon. After brief conference, they joined Kathryn’s troop and the ride resumed.

         Before long, they came to a river’s edge. The river was wide, perhaps a mile or more, and a chain of small islands cut across the fast moving channel. A series of long, low stone bridges connected each of the islands to the opposite shores. Close to the shore, the river was shallow and the water coursed swiftly over rocky beds. Towards the middle of the channel were huge boulders around which the river flowed with a thundering torrent that hurled spray far into the air. Without the bridges, crossing the river would be impossible, even deadly.

         A handful of tents flying colourful banners  huddled near the riverbank at the foot of the first bridge. All round the perimeter of the camp was a makeshift mound of earth, a meter in height, from which bristled a thorny crest of spears and iron pikes. Beyond the defensive wall, cooking fires, heavy with the scent of roasting meat, sent up thin plumes of smoke that were quickly spirited away by the wind.

         A dozen knights greeted Kathryn’s company as it approached. Kathryn excused herself from Brenan once again, and with Franz and Mareck at her side, rode to confer with the captain of the bridge guard. Brenan watched the exchange of words. She rejoined her company, this time with a sullen look on her face.  As she rode past Brenan, her green eyes flashed at him, and she said only loud enough for him to hear, “We’ll soon see if you know how to use that blade you carry.” Then, she rode into the midst of the band, stood in her stirrups and, with a sense of urgency in her voice bid her soldiers gather round, “I have word from Captain Trajan at Watcher’s Mound. The Northerns are advancing on the fortress. Even our few swords are needed. We ride forthwith to Watcher’s Mound.  Ride now; ride as fast as you can!”

         Upon Kathryn’s command, the company broke formation and charged away towards the bridge. Brenan would have been left by himself had Mareck not rode past and swatted Banda’s rump. The burley man laughed as he watched Brenan scramble to stay on top of his now speeding horse that hastened to join the galloping pack. Sparks showered from steel-shod hooves as the troop thundered across the bridges.  Brenan had lost sight of Kathryn and his place of privilege at the head of the column. He found himself in the middle of the pack. The faces of the men around him were grim and intent with purpose. Though they rode towards the unexpected, the promise of battle and death pursued them like a shadow. Brenan felt his heart racing. It seemed that the adventure he had craved for so long was now before him. He felt at once exhilarated and terrified.