The Drove, Part 1 (Garland & Marrick)

[Garland]

Tryn was clearly uncomfortable here, something was wrong, but Garland had dismissed it, mostly because he thought his horse wanted to kick him off again. He needed to keep a look out, Marick had the right flank covered, so Garland checked the left side, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

He looked over Marick, something was clearly bothering him. "Is something wrong, Marick? Did you see something?"

“Oi’ll be roight back you two, hold toight.”

With that Marick hurried up to the front, leaving the two of them in the dust. Tryn huffed and puffed rearing his front legs up, he was starting to get wild and impatient... or maybe worried? Though Garland had calmed him down quickly enough with a few neck scratches and ear rubs.

He looked over to Katelyn, eyeing the red haired girl. Honestly, he didn't peg Marick to be into these types of girls... Then again, he had no idea what Kelvics were into. "Katelyn, how did you meet Marick? It seems like you two are close."

The large wave of cattle and sheep seemed endless to Garland, shame to see these animals being sent to the market, but that is just the way of life, he had to accept it, though that doesn't mean he has to like it.

With a resigned sigh, he let go of the reins of his horse, letting Tryn drive himself. It seems like it would be an uneventful day. No wolf would be dumb enough to attack such a large herd, they would just get trampled by the cows when they panic and run the risk of a stampede.

He felt that the only thing that they needed to worry about were bandits, then again. What good would live stock be to bandits? They wouldn't have much gold on them, or much loot. They could never sell this much meat, and they can't keep the animals for long unless they have a huge pen for them, and somewhere to keep them. It would be stupid for bandits to attack the herd, then again, bandits are always stupid.

Tryn was trotting in an even pace, keeping up with the few much rowdier animals, it seemed like Tryn knew what he was doing, unlike his rider.

When Marick had returned, Garland sat up and waved at him.

Apologies. What did Oi Miss?”

"Not much really. We were just talking." He said honestly, though he did omit the detail that he thought Marick and Katelyn were together, he didn't need to know about that just yet. It was just a hunch, and hunches could always be wrong.

After a while they had made it to the old bridge, he wondered if it could support the whole lot of them, his horse was still on edge, but there was really nothing to be stressing about right now. The bridge could hold out if the small animals move first and if they move slowly.

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick was on edge now. It was as if a bitter wind crept up his spine, and needles danced in his belly. He didn’t like it, though he did his best to conceal his concern behind an attentive smile and pleasant conversation. But, something just wasn’t right. The little part of him that was Raven urged him to take flight. ‘Away away!’ it seemed to call. Yet, the Kelvic knew of his obligations. His duties tied him here, and the vow he had taken to help the people of Syliras spurred him to act on them. ‘So they had been talking’ the Kelvic thought to himself. Such a vague explanation left Marrick with a rather ichor suspiciousness for his fellow squire. Though, now was not the best time to pry. Besides, it wasn’t his business what they talked about. It wasn’t as if the Kelvic was bonded to her. They had a Job to do. He let it go with a nod and a wave, and gave Kiter’s sides a gentle nudge to propel them ahead of the rest. The sturdy stonework of the old bridge became visible as the mass of cattle wound their way about a hill that obscured the road ahead. The trees still squeezed In between the fields and the road, but there were larger and larger gaps in them. Every now and again the Kelvic managed a glance into those gaps. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but he knew if it was anything other than green grass and the occasional stone he would not be happy. There was a gap where the Dark haired squire thought he saw a place where the grass had been trampled by horse, but it could simply have been wind blown at that distance. Before long the head of the drive hit the bridge and the drovers began encouraging the cattle over. The stone structure was a good thirty feet wide over this section of the Avitar, and her Pylons were massive to hold the weight of the stonework that made up her bulk. If it weren’t for the spring floods every year, those stone structures below the bridge would make a good place to build a home. The bridge itself would prevent rain, and simple shelter would keep any inhabitants safe from the elements. For the moment Marrick put away his fanciful thoughts to focus on his task. This was a dangerous point in their trip. It would be difficult for people to cross the bridge with so many cattle, sheep, and goats crossing at once. The ones that were on the far side would be exposed, as would the ones on the near side. The Kelvic considered a tactical response in case such an event occurred. He would not be able to take on a troop of enemies on open ground. He would have to rely on the drovers to keep the cattle in check, and join the ranks of defenders if an attack occurred. As the cacophony of hooves rang out on the stone bridge the Kelvic watched as several of the drovers and knights merged with the herd as they moved across the threshold in mass. The cattle would be rubbing up against Kiters sides and the Kelvic was concerned for her calm. “Alroight lass, don’ go buckin me off eh?” he said soothingly to his Tiaden War Mare. The great horse flicked her ears back and forth as if listening to something and the Kelvic took her cue to look about a moment or two and double check to ensure the safety of the drovers. Across the bridge several of the knights had begun to create a perimeter. Marrick stood up in his stirrups to try and see where his Patron stood watch as the drovers pushed forward. He spied Ser Whitevine atop his pale gelding and felt the relief of knowing that his master was near. Having someone as skilled as his Patron rode with them always brought him a measure of comfort. As he neared the bridge Kiter hesitated to join the milling throng of animals and Marrick tried to urge her on. “Come on yah great stone of a harse. It’s alroight, they won’t boite!” The Kelvic stroked the horses neck gently to try and relief her stress, but that only seemed to irritate her further. The massive Tiaden began to whinny loudly and sidestep. The Kelvic wasn’t sure whether she was just agitated by the movement of the animals or if it was something else. The massive horse rend the ground her fore hooves, and the Dark haired squire was beginning to become exasperated. “Koiter! What the bloody hai is –“ The Kelvic never got to finish his sentence. The sounding of a horn rose from the woodland from their right, on both sides of the river and the animals diverted from the bridge. A couple of the sheep even dove off the side so filled were they with stupid fright. Marrick looked to his Patron just in time to see a set of arrows arc gracefully into the knights at the head of the column. Shields rose, and a loud clatter could be heard, but Marrick knew what was coming. However, this time, there was no wagon for him to take cover behind. The Kelvic never saw the arrow that hit him. He sure as hai felt it though. The punch of the projectile penetrated his Guardbrace over his shoulder, punched through his Pauldron, and embedded itself in the flesh of his left deltoid muslce. He dropped his longbow, and the cry of surprise and pain he belted out sounded as if an angry monster had been unleashed upon the world. The pain was blinding, and Marrick struggled to gain his composure. Kiter didn’t help either. As the great Tiaden War Mare reared up at the sound of her riders shout, the Kelvic held on for dear life. His right hand gripped the reins and he flexed in the stirrups, bending his body to maintain his weight over the massive beast’s centre of gravity. When the mass of horse flesh landed hard on her forelegs the jostling sent a shot of pain through his arm and Marrick wanted nothing more than to remove the arrow from his shoulder. “HAI!!!” he cursed loudly, as he grasped at the shaft in his shoulder. The agony filled the Kelvics heart with a tingling that left him breathless, with a gasp of hard earned air he ripped the arrow from his arm. The shaft slipped easily through the hole it had made and Marrick stared terrified at what was in his hand. “BODKINS!!! SPREAD OUT!! SPREAD OUT!!” The dark haired squire threw the shaft and kicked Kiter hard in attempt to get her moving. It didn’t matter which direction. As long as he was a moving target. His arm wasn’t useless, but a new rivulet of red blood trickled down his vambrance to splash against his thigh. The Kelvic changed the hand that held Kiters reins, and painfully steered her toward the treeline where the enemy lay in ambush. As he rushed forward, he saw several of the cattle and sheep running in terror with arrows in their hides. Their frenzy would drive the others to panic, but Marrick had to leave that to the drovers. Somewhere in the wood lay a new sheath for his longsword, and it simply wouldn’t do to leave the pink fleshy pecher empty. Marrick turned Kiter hard into the incoming arrows, and drew his sword, a cry of battle bellowed from the pit of his stomach. “SYLIRAS!!!” He knew not how many enemies there were. He knew not their position. But the livestock needed to be protected. As did the drovers. They were cut off from the chain of command. Marrick saw only one action at hand. Find the brigands… and neutralize them. OOC sorrySorry for the delay. Had a couple monster threads to complete. Should be a quicker now. Post freely!

[Katelyn Marks]

She found herself near Garland again, several lengths away. He settled in to watch the herd move across, and when he spoke again his question caught her off guard.

"What?" she asked in surprise, then felt an embarrassed blush warm her face. "Do we?" she continued stupidly. "We met by chance, actually. We were both out riding and he found me by the river, right over there actually," Kat admitted, pointing to a spot on the other side of the bank. "But we're just friends, really."

The redhead soon lapsed back into thoughtful silence. She shook her head to herself, trying to dismiss the silly pondering. They were just friendly acquaintances. People made assumptions every day. Marrick returned and Katelyn found her eyes lingering for longer than was probably proper, but the bleating of sheep and goats soon invaded her thoughts, startling her back to attention. She was grateful for it, and contented herself to work. It wouldn't do to start lollygagging and daydreaming of silly little fantasies. Katelyn kicked her gelding's sides and rode down the fringes away from the Squires, back toward the wagon at a quick lope.

About a quarter of the herds were across by then, but it was around this time that everything hit the fan. She had fallen in with the rear riders, making sure everyone and everything kept the pace they'd set. Several Knights followed behind them, alert and scanning the trees, ever on guard. Katelyn was startled when the wail of the horn rose from the woods, cutting across the calls of the herds and the endless thrumming of hooves. She reined her gelding up so hard that his front hooves came slightly off the ground. He twisted underneath her and she clutched at his mane, watching in horror as arrows sailed out of the trees, following their call for attack.

The Knights and Squires were first to act. She even saw Marrick riding for the trees ahead, and fear twisted in her belly like snakes. Swords and bows were drawn, and the harsh scrape of metal on boiled leather scabbards behind her made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. War shouts rang out and her gelding thrashed beneath her, unused the tension and sound of impending battle. He whinnied with fright and she yanked him around in a tight circle, keeping him from bolting or rearing. He fought the bit hard, trying to break from the hold she had on him. When Katelyn saw the first few animals begin to flee, Katelyn released him and used his energy to chase after them.

She gave him the direction, but he needed no goading. He galloped recklessly into the direction she allowed him, and she had to rein hard to guide him on the proper course. The other drovers were jumping into action as well. She caught flashes of riders chasing cattle, penning them in and working together to corral the heifers and steers back to the herd. Katelyn was hunched over the gelding's neck as he drove in hard, but as they approached a pair of frightened cattle loping toward the trees, she veered her horse in front of them and reined in hard. His hooves slid and scraped road then grass, tearing the earth as he tried to stop.

His butt nearly touched the ground as he came to a wild halt, and Kat twisted him to face the oncoming heifers. Training kicked in and he took a quick charge at them at her urging, pivoting to block their path when they tried to change direction. Katelyn held onto her saddle tightly as he darted and moved back at forth to cut them off, and their backs turned to retreat he chased them a few hard meters to drive them back home.

Looking around wildly, Katelyn grabbed the reins up again and kicked him back into a gallop once the heifers were rejoining the group.

OOCHave at it boys!

[Garland]

"Shyke in a hand basket! Bandits!" Garland called out to the other knights and squires to let them know what was happening, there was always a few seconds of delay in information, but luckily his yelling had helped the other squires and younger knights.

He was right on one end of the bridge, as he heard the sound of a horn. If Garland had time to think on this, he would question giving away their position with a horn and not just fire their arrows first then follow with the horn. But time was not on their side, the cattle and livestock in their charge panicked on and off the bridge, Garland was worried that it might collapse under their weight. Again, he didn't have time to worry about it, because before he knew it Tryn had already galloped off the track, heading for the treeline.

He held on tight with one hand, and the other raised up to defend with his shield. With arrows raining down on them, he was surprised that Tryn had made it without getting hit, then again there won't be an army of archers waiting for them in the trees, the other knights would have noticed earlier if that was the case. He could hear a few other knights and squires give out battle cries, while some just stood on guard, protecting the drovers and animals.

Garland didn't care or wanted to do a battle cry, right now all he wanted was to get to where the fighting will take place, and start silencing whatever caused this event to occur.

He raised his shield, protecting his face from arrows, he heard the sound of broadheads hitting his metallic shield, some embedding into it, while others bounced off. Ever an unlucky squire, an arrow had made it's way through his shield and into his arm. With a pain filled scream, he felt the warm crimson liquid drip from his wound. The pain was making him lose his logic and sense, either pulling it out, to get rid of the pain, replacing it with a sharp discomfort, or leaving it in to keep the wound of bleeding out too much blood.

As usual, this was neither the time or the place to think of wounds. As they neared where the initial attack begun, he could seen a few leather armored people in the trees, some wearing hoods and masks, while others were just going in without any face cover whatsoever. He was no good with horses, that was a fact, he was even worse fighting on horseback.

He hopped off his horse, landing on the grass and rocks on the ground, the jump had broke the arrow that had embedded itself into his arm in two. The force made his wound just a little bit more unbearable than it already was. He raised up his shield, hoping it defended him from whatever was going to attack him. He heard a loud clang, and a sharp pain in his arm told him that he defended successfully, he unsheathed his sword, slashing as he did so. He felt some resistance as he unsheathed, meaning it found it's mark, unfortunately he only heard a grunt instead of a pained scream or a gurgle of blood.

He got up, hopefully either the other knights and squires get here quickly or the other bandits weren't really all that good with their bow, he was standing out in the open, with a bandit holding a shortsword.

"Come on..." He muttered under his breath. He saw Tryn get captured by some net, pinning him on the ground.

So... They were planning to steal the livestock, well it's a relief to know that it wasn't some cult behind this attack. Garland thought to himself. He waited for some backup at least, for now he needed to stay on the defensive.

[Marrick Corvis]

Kiter’s hoof beats thundered down upon the archers like a coming storm, and Marrick felt as if he were the wind god himself. His long sword shone dully in the light as he held it out and away from himself and Kiter. He felt the rush of battle as he rode down the archers, and they scattered like torn turf in the wind. The adrenaline sent a shiver through his system as he drew closer and closer to his target. The man had an arrow notched, but aimed at another of the guardsman who rushed their line. At the last moment he saw the mass of horseflesh that was nearly upon him. As he lifted his bow to loose an arrow, Marrick brought his long sword down in a low forward swoop. He didn’t need to see his blade as it struck. The dark haired squire simply felt the shiver of his long sword as it met with flesh. It was like swinging his sword hard into a tree, and the Kelvic struggled to cling hard to the weapon as it ran with the archer’s blood. He felt something hot spray his face, thought the only thing in his eye was the poorly armoured man as he ran from Sylir’s peace. The archers were scattering, and the damage had been done. For a blessed moment Marrick’s mind focussed and he found himself thinking he might be able to capture some of them instead of kill them. The distance closed quickly, yet there was enough time for him twist the sword in his hand at the wrist and swing the flat of his blade into the back of the man’s head. This time Marrick tugged at Kiters reins to one side to veer her in a new direction. As the great Tiaden War Mare slowed her gate he looked over his shoulder and looked through the trees of the thicket. The thieves’ body he had just attacked lay face down in the cold dirt. The other one, the one he’d cut lay awkwardly in a crumpled heap. His body was in the wrong shape to still fitting together right. The faces of the previous men he’d killed blew into his memory unbidden like an unwanted frozen gale. Marrick laid the blade of his long sword over his good shoulder where it rested in the notch of his pauldron. He shook his head, trying to buck the images that invaded his mind. He didn’t want to think about them. He didn’t want to see their desperate faces. He wanted to see them only as criminals in need of justice. Marrick barely felt the hands that pulled him from the saddle.

[Garland]

There wasn't as many as they first expected but there were enough to be worried. Garland stood his ground, now he was too close and the archers couldn't or wouldn't risk friendly fire at this close of a range. Now all he had to worry about were the bandit that was staring him down, and another one that decided to join his friend.

Before any of them could react. Marrick and his horse thundered down and took one of the bandits that was focusing on Garland. He gave a silent thanks to Marrick, and raised his shield to chest height. The sounds of battle roared around him, metal against metal, blood gushing out and pained screams, from both sides. Deep down he knew this was wrong, but on the surface, he enjoyed the blood and pain, fighting was in his blood and mind. He had one goal, and that was to protect the livestock and in extension, kill the bandits.

He twirled his sword, trying to loosen up his grip for a much faster response, he would need it since his opponent looked to be faster rather than stronger than Garland.

He needed to keep close to the bandit if he wanted to avoid the arrows, if he stayed too far or moved too little, he would be an easy target for the archers. And with that thought done, he rushed in towards the bandit hoping to ram the rouge with his shield. Even though his shield arm was wounded and still bleeding, the pain was being pushed back by the adrenalin that was being pumped into Garland's system.

The bandit dodged Garland's attempt to ram him down and possibly kill him. Garland could see where his sword had hit when he unsheathed it, there was some blood there, but this bandit was a seasoned fighter, the small wound and the blood didn't really bother him.

It was the bandit's turn to attack. Using his speed, the rouge moved in and gave a low slash to one of Garland's legs, the bandit attacked a weak spot in his armor, and sent Garland to his knee.

The young squire could feel a sharp pain across his leg, luckily it wasn't enough to keep him down. He rolled to the side in the nick of time, the bandit had embedded his shortsword into the ground in an attempted coup de grace. Instinct had kicked in for Garland and with all his strength and chopped his head clean off.

Before Garland knew what he had done, it was over. The bandit he was fighting made a poor move and paid the price, he would have time to regret later, right now there was still a few more archers to take care of, and with a seasoned squire with him, hopefully this meant they should finish off quite quickly.

[Marrick Corvis]

The ground came up hard to meet the Kelvic, and all he could do was exhale as he dropped his sword. Somewhere in the back of Marrick’s perceptions he heard men shouting as Kiter bucked wildly at their attackers. The squires back ached badly as he rolled onto his belly, a burning anger in his heart. Between painful gasps he opened his eyes to three men as they shouted to each other on which way was best to either kill or capture the squire’s horse. With an agonizing groan Marrick lifted himself to his knees and found his sword. One of the vagabonds realized the Kelvic had risen and abandoned his compatriots to fight the warhorse themselves. The man rushed him, cleaver drawn. A roar escaped his lips, and the dark haired squire found it hard to focus through the pain and din. Though just as Ser Whitevine had taught him, the Kelvic tried to control his breathing. Difficult through the pain as it was the familiar motions brought focus. As the man brought his cleaver down Marrick swung his blade up hard and was rewarded with a loud melodious twang as their blades met. The squire’s heavier weapon deflected the bandits cleaver. The momentum to spin about and bring his weapon under his opponent in a sweep of his legs. The Man went down with a thud, and the squire’s blade found its way into the desperate man’s heart. He didn’t even have time to shout a warning or deliver a final cough as Marrick drew his blood wetted blade from the man’s chest. Kiter continued to buck wildly, and the men abandoned their pursuit of her. Their attentions now rested on the squire. They approached slowly, their bows forgotten. The Kelvic gave them a little bit of ground while he assessed the danger they posed. One wielded a cleaver like his dead companion, while his supporter held a heavy looking mace. Behind him Garland was making short work of his attackers, but that didn’t stop the two bandits from advancing on Marrick. They sneered at him through filthy faces and the Kelvic felt a brief swell of pity. They’d been outside the wall of a city a long time, and with the goal of survival the only driving force, one’s morality had a way of dissolving. They were a bedraggled lot. Poorly fed and likely poorly trained. Marrick halted dead in his tracks and took on a defensive stance. The wound in his arm ached, but the adrenaline that pulsed through the Kelvic’s limbs dulled fear, pain, and common sense. As the first attack came, the dark haired squire boldly stepped forward into the sidelong strike. He lifted his longsword up and caught his enemies Mace only to redirect the strike over his head and away. Marrick used the momentum of the strike to propel himself around the Vagabond, and used the scoundrel as a barrier between himself and a fresh attack. Their sneers evaporated only long enough for Marrick to slide his blade upward leaving a cruel cut along his first attacker’s belly. The bandit screamed as his blood painted the ground, and he struggled to stem its flow. The Kelvic bowled him over with a heavy body check and sent him down into the cold dirt. The scoundrel’s attentions on his gaping belly wound. His legs fell right out from under him. Now it was just Marrick and the remaining Bandit. The last criminal seemed unsure of the situation now as he retreated slowly away from the Kelvic’s bloody blade. The gutted vagabond bled out in mere tics, while his comrade stared at Marrick’s bloody blade. With a low growl the Kelvic stepped over the dead man’s corpse toward his enemy. The dark haired squire didn’t wait till the vagabond attacked. He surged forward with a vicious stab at the vagabond’s midsection, but it wasn’t the squire’s intention to make that a final blow. The Bandit parried the strike easily, and countered quickly with his cleaver aiming a swift downward strike for the Kelvic’s neck. Swift as the recoil of one whose just discovered an unwanted snake in a box Marrick brought his longsword up and caught the cleaver against his longswords cross guard before he retreated. The dark haired squire brought his blade low, and held it their like an adder waiting to strike. He adopted a heavy stance, feet firmly planted yet loose. Inside Marrick felt as if he were a bundle of raw nerves. His breathing was ragged and his focus was fixed on the man in front of him. Still, his mind was cluttered with the dull knowledge of pain somewhere in his body. Then with a final push he lifted his longsword to his chest and swung hard for the bandit’s shoulder, only for his enemy to parry his strike away. Marrick wasted no time recovering and brought his hand in behind the blade and used it as a counter pull. With a swift jerk he brought the end of his cross guard into his opponent’s eye. The man’s shrill cry rang out over the meadow before Marrick withdrew his cross guard. The Bandit crumpled as he cradled his wounded eye and in this state, the Pale eyed squire raised his sword, and executed him with a strong definitive downward swing. The warm blood sprayed across his face and he felt both relief and disgust for a fleeting moment. His enemies dead, and Kiter Safe, it felt as if his world were so small. Like he lived in a bucket of water. His surroundings came back into focus. Several of the squire and knights on the near side of the river had routed the enemy. Many fled back to the bronze wood with members of the order giving chase. On the far side of the river, several of the knights were still fighting. The Kelvic fought hard to force words to his bloodied lips. The noise he made seemed strange, like a low croak. Until at last he managed a single call. “Kiter!” he shouted at his horse. The massive War Mare heard him, and trotted over expectant of affection. All her nose would have smelled was the coppery tang of a dead man’s blood. The Tiaden didn’t like it, and turned her nose away startled at her rider’s cold and distant behavior. Without a comforting pat or scratch the Kelvic swung himself into the saddle longsword still drawn and steered the Horse back for the bridge. They needed help across the river.

[Garland]

The fight was drawing to a close, the enemy is routed, there was no point in following them, but the other knights and had other ideas. It would be better to make sure they were gone for good, but this was still a bit wrong, there may be bandits, but they were running away, and probably wouldn't be able to do anything to them later. Garland ran towards his trapped horse, which was no left unattended by the bandits, he cut off the rope and step back to let Tryn gave enough room to get up.

He sheathed his sword and brushed Tryn's mane, trying to calm down his mixed blood stallion. Tryn gave a small huff, and neighed. Garland climbed up and ordered Tryn to move back with the herd.

He made his way towards Kat, it seemed that they only lost a couple of livestock, shame... Though it meant stake for dinner tonight.

How could I think about food at a time like that? He thought and looked at Kat. "I hope you're alright, sorry if things got a little... intense earlier, but I guess the others are just cleaning up now. Excuse me while check if anybody was injured in the fight." He just wanted to check up on Katelyn first, it seemed that everyone that wasn't a knight or squire was okay, but he couldn't say the same about his fellow squires.

The dull pain in his arm was starting to come back, the Adrenalin was wearing off, he unstrapped his shield and saw that his arm was still bleeding and half of the arrow was still inside. "Umm... Kat, can you help me pull this out... It's starting to hurt... a lot."

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick rode Kiter hard for the bridge. The massive mare was grateful there were no more arrows flying their way, but the animals were still spread out. The drovers had managed to gather together what they could and push them across the bridge. Gratefully the long stonework structure was clear for him to rush across. The loud clatter of Kiters hoof beats let out a loud tattoo that echoed like a thousand hammers tapping his helm. But Marricks Goal was simple. He needed to find Ser Whitevine. He needed to make sure his Patron was ok. When Kiter’s feet pounded earth again instead of stone he turned her hard to the right and followed the river. The adrenaline had begun to wear off at this point and his mind began to think again. ‘Stay with the Squire on your cut.’ The Order echoed in his head and he slowed Kiter’s mad race for the woods where several of the knights had gone in pursuit of the enemy. Eventually he halted the Tiaden in her tracks and he huffed an exhausted sigh of frustration. He wanted to make sure Ser Whitevine made it home, but he had his orders. As his Patron had taught him he closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and exhaled. This meditation brought him comfort, and he needed that now. With his mind clear, and the adrenaline wearing off, Marrick realized just how badly his body ached. He grit his teeth and stifled a groan as the pain stabbed his shoulder where the Bodkin had buried itself. With a grunt he sheathed his longsword and grit his teeth to the fall sky. With his good arm he took the reins and turned Kiter to where he had dropped his bow. It was a short ride back and his body felt worse with each jarring hoof beat. It was uncomfortable leaning over the saddle as he searched, but he found it eventually. Remarkably, it was undamaged. “Ugh” he groaned. He knew he would need to climb out of the saddle to retrieve his weapon, but there was no way to get out of it. With a pained hiss he slid from the saddle and knelt to pick up his bow. With an effort he stood and tried to unstring it, but a sharp stab of pain made him recoil. He sighed as the agony clouded his senses and he tried again. The string came loose and he let the bow flex loose. The relief he felt was palpable as he slid the weapon into his saddle bags and lashed it in place. He stood there a long moment before he gathered enough strength to lift himself back into the saddle. “Ow.” The pained word escaped his lips as he closed his eyes against the growing agony he felt. With a deep breath he tapped the Tiaden Warmare’s sides and sought out Katelyn and Garland.

[Katelyn Marks]

Everything was chaos, and Katelyn found herself fearing for her life as arrows flew, men shouted, and animals screamed in fright. Her father's gelding spooked beneath her as a Knight galloped by with his shield and sword at the ready, and she fought for control as he reared and bucked beneath her. She clutched at his mane and tugged at the reins, trying to pull him around and calm him. He lurched beneath her and she looked around wildly, trying to find a familiar face.

Before the gelding whipped around in another wild circle she saw an arrow arc from the trees and smash into Marrick. The scream that bubbled up from her clenched stomach died in her throat as the horse beneath her gave one final heave and threw her over his head and onto the ground.

Hooves thundered past her and Katelyn flinched in fright, curling into a ball and covering her head as the world spun and blurred. The sound of bleating animals filled her ears and took over her senses, their fear overwhelming her and choking her. Tears filled her ears and she clenched them shut as she lay there protecting herself from the cattle being driven by. She wasn't sure how long she was prone on the ground before a set of firm hands grabbed her and yanked her to her feet.

Kat felt unsteady, and her legs buckled when they were beneath her again.

"On your feet, girl!" a gruff voice barked, and the hands shook her.

She opened her eyes in fright and looked around, dazed and sore. An old face looked down at her, weathered and worried. It was the old man from the wagon. He helped her get her feet beneath her one more time and this time they stood firm. He held her out at arm's length and gave her a once over.

"Alright?" he asked, and she nodded slowly.

He'd pulled her to the side of the road away from the herd, and she looked around. Her horse stood tied to his wagon that was currently abandoned. She glared at the animal, but the old man shook his head.

"Can't expect a stock horse to perform in battle, lass."

The words cut her anger like a hot knife through butter, and she felt herself deflate. He was right. The old man helped her back to the wagon and to her father's horse, and held the reins after untying the beast while she made the effort to climb back into the saddle. Her hip protested and her head was pounding, but she couldn't just stand around. Kat definitely couldn't just ride in that wagon either. They other drovers needed help.

He handed her the reins and they exchanged quick smiles before he stepped back into his driver's seat and she rode back to the others at a quick trot. She was quickly put back to work rounding up a few more strays while the Squires and Knights handled the bandits, and it didn't give her any time to search for Marrick. Fresh tears burned her throat and stung her eyes, and as she chased a young bull down they tumbled down her cheeks and blurred her vision. The horse could handle most of it on his own without needing more than a general direction, so she let him and just hung on.

By the time the animals were back under control the battle seemed to be pretty much over--the Order victorious. Katelyn wiped away her tears and sat light dead weight in the saddle, letting her gelding following the back of the herd at a placid trot. The last of them were now crossing the bridge and fording the river, so Kat reined her horse to a stop so she could try to compose herself. It wouldn't do to have anyone see her this way. But that plan went out the window when she saw Garland riding up.

As arrow stuck out of his arm and he looked pale. Her eyes grew round with fright at the sight of him, and she reached out to him.

"Gods, come here. Of course, let me help you," she blurted quickly, and urged her horse a little closer to his stallion.

Her stomach churned at the sight of the red blood dripping from the wound, and hesitated when her fingers moved to grasp the arrow. A shudder ran through her and she closed her eyes when she felt the smooth wood and the bristly fletching. Katelyn gripped it tightly and gave a rough yank. It was sure to be painful--even more so because she'd never done such a thing. She felt it wiggle against his flesh and heard the wet sucking sound of blood. Bile rose in her throat as the projectile came free, and she instantly dropped it in disgust.

Her face was twisted in distaste when she finally opened her eyes again, and she made it a point not to look at her work.

"I'm sorry," she apologized miserably, knowing she'd caused him more pain.

She looked beyond him then, back to the bridge. They were rounding up a few criminals on the other side of the river, and someone else was riding across the bridge. Her brows furrowed and she twisted her horse around to get a better look. Kat's eyes swelled and fresh tears welled up. Marrick was riding hunched in the saddle, even paler than usual. The dark haired Squire had been injured during the fight--she'd seen him shot before she was thrown from the saddle. As he approached the glint of red blood shone on his face in the sunlight, and her stomach clenched.

Katelyn kicked her horse into a gallop without warning, steering him toward her friend and his massive mare.

"Marrick!" she yelled above the thunder of hooves, drawing his attention to her.

Her painted gelding clattered up the road to him and she drew him in hard. He skidded and stumbled out of his fast approach and stopped so suddenly that his rear nearly drug the ground. Both of them were breathing heavily--him from exertion and her from frightened worry.

"Are you alright?" she half-growled with the embarrassing effort with which she fought the tears in her eyes.

Katelyn knew it was a stupid question, but it was an instinctive one.