dragon archives 04 - dance with a dragon (32 page)

“Lady Kathleen,” he said as he drew closer, and Kathleen looked up with a shy smile. “I saw the queen’s carriage and wondered whether you were here as well. I’m glad to see you have taken yourself out of direct sight of the battlefield.” He glanced at Anna. “Please introduce me to your friend,” he said.

“Uh, er –”

“Anna Carver,” Anna intervened, nodding at him with a smile. “Have you been injured?”

Lord Giles looked startled for a moment, then glanced down at his leg. “Oh, no, nothing of the sort. A childhood mishap left my leg a little twisted, but I never let it worry me.” He patted his thigh. “Lady Kathleen made a balm to soothe it when the weather makes it play up.” He smiled at Kathleen, whose blush spread down her neck. “I’d better be off. Have a battle to fight, and all.” He stared for a moment at Kathleen, who looked down at the ground; then with a nod at Anna he turned and walked down the hill.

The sun had passed the noon hour when Anna felt Max return. She turned around to see him running towards her, his face etched with concern. She sprang to her feet.

“What is it?” she said. “What’s happened?”

“Garrick,” he said. He grabbed her by the arm and almost lifting her off her feet, dragged her down the hill. “He’s been injured.”

She gasped. “What happened?”

“Rupert placed him at the front line in a charge.”

“No!” Max pulled her against his side, practically carrying her, as her knees suddenly gave way. “But he’s an archer.” Archers were always placed at the back of the lines, where they would send their arrows over the field to their enemy targets.

“I know.” Max’s face was grim. “Rupert knew very well this could cost Garrick his life.”

“But why would he do that? Why would he place Garrick in the frontline?”

Max had reached the far side of the plain where the battle was being fought. He skirted around the edges, dragging her around the fallen bodies of dead and dying men. He glanced down at her. “Rupert asked Garrick about his interest in you, but clearly his answer did not satisfy the prince.”

“He told him we are betrothed.”

“No, he didn’t, actually. But Blanche had already told Rupert that Garrick meant more to you than a friend.”

Anna closed her eyes in an effort to control the nausea that rose up. “No,” she whispered. She gulped in a breath of air, then coughed when sulfur and saltpeter burned the back of her throat. “How badly is he hurt?”

Max came to a stop and slipped his arm from her waist. She turned around to see Garrick lying on the ground, blood covering almost his entire body. The skin around his abdomen hung in ribbons from one side to the other, with black, cloying liquid oozing from the deep gash, and Anna almost gagged at the smell that rose from the wound.

“A flail wound,” Max said. “He was hit from the side. He still managed to drag himself away from the fighting, but he has lost too much blood. He does not have long to live.”

Anna dropped to her knees beside Garrick, and his eyes fluttered open. “Anna,” he breathed. His eyes widened as a spasm gripped him, then fell closed.

“No,” Anna whispered, “this cannot be happening.” She turned to Max. “You have to give him some of your blood.”

“No!”

Anna glanced down at Garrick – his voice had been soft, but no less strident than Max’s louder objection. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and another spasm of pain crossed his face. His hand was groping the ground, and Anna wrapped her own around it.

“I will not take the dragon’s blood,” he finally said. “I have no desire to be bound to a dragon – especially not that one!”

“But you must,” she said. “It will save your life.” Max was standing a few feet away, watching in silence, and Anna turned to face him. “You have to give him your blood!” she said. “He’s going to die.” Her voice was rising. “Are you going to let him die?”

“Anna,” Max said, “Even if I wanted to give Garrick some of my blood, I cannot force it on him.”

“No,” she shouted. “No! You have to! You cannot let him die!”

“Anna.” Garrick’s voice was barely a whisper. He wrapped his fingers around her hand, and she looked at him. He coughed, and blood splattered from his mouth across his chin. Ripping the hem of her gown, Anna wiped his mouth with the fabric. He smiled faintly. “I’m dying, my love. You have given me such joy and happiness, but I knew that we would not be married.”

“What? What are you saying, Garrick? Of course we would have been married.”

“Oh, Anna, I know you would have married me.” He coughed again, and Anna wiped his face once more. He lay silent for a moment, and when he spoke, Anna had to lean close to his mouth to hear his words. “My dear love, I would not have married you.” Anna pulled back, unsure that she had heard correctly.

“You would not have … not have married me?”

Garrick’s nod was barely discernible. “It is Max you love,” he whispered. “And Max loves you.”

“No, I love you.” The tears were spilling down Anna’s cheeks. “Please, Garrick, you have to live so we can be married.” A ghost of a smile flitted over Garrick’s features before quickly turning to a grimace. His skin was pasty, and his hand was cold to Anna’s touch, despite the heat of the sun. She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “Please Garrick,” she whispered.

“You … have  …” Garrick drew in a breath, and when he coughed, a stream of blood flew from his mouth, splattering drops over her cheek. He lay, panting for a moment, his eyes closed, his hand clenching hers. He opened his eyes again, but they were unfocused and blood seeped from the corners. His lips moved and Anna placed her ear next to them to catch his last word. “… blessing,” he said. His eyes closed, and his hand slipped from hers.

“Garrick,” she cried. She lay her ear against his chest and heard the faint fluttering of his heart, as weak as the wings of a butterfly ensnared in a web, and then it fell still. She lay there, her head on his chest, as the tears spilled from her eyes, drenching the shredded remains of the shirt beneath his jerkin. The blood from his wound slowed, then stopped, congealing around the torn edges in a black mass. A fly landed on his open injury, and with a flash of anger she shooed it away.

The battle continued to surge across the plain, with shouts and booms ringing out across the field, but she heard none of them. A man yelled when he tripped over her, then glancing down, muttered an apology, but she neither saw nor heard him. She stared unseeing at the seething mass around her, her mind blank, devoid of thought. If Max had crossed her mind, she would have known he was close by, watching her as she grieved, but she did not think of him, and he made no move to approach her or comfort her. Instead, he sat on the ground and covered her in a cocoon of warmth.

After a time – was it minutes or hours? – she began to take in the scene around her. She was lying on the ground, her arms around Garrick’s lifeless body. All that was left was an empty shell – the spirit that had made this body laugh and love and fight was gone. She pushed herself up and glanced around, seeing Max for the first time since Garrick’s life had slipped away.

“This is all your fault,” she said. Her voice was flat and dull. “You could have saved him.”

“He didn’t want to be saved,” he said.

“You should have saved him for me.”

Max rose to his feet and walked over to her, his hand outstretched. “Come,” he said, “let’s get you away from here.”

She moved away from his reaching hand, and pushed herself to her feet. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “You killed Garrick.” Max’s hand fell to his side as she turned around and walked away. She didn’t need to look around to know he was following her, but she didn’t care. She just had to get away from this battle, this scene of death and despair.

She walked without thinking, stepping over abandoned weapons and pieces of armor, and around the bodies of men whom someone, somewhere, loved. She headed for a small copse of trees, then walked away from them when she heard birds twittering in the branches. Did they not know today was a day of mourning, not joy and celebration? She saw Matilda’s carriage perched on its hill, and she turned away from it. The thought of seeing the queen who had been pleased to watch the slaughter was distressing. She longed for Keira, but such thoughts were useless.

She eventually did make her way back to the carriage, when practicality finally overcame sensibility. Already the shadows were growing longer, and soon it would be dusk. The battle was still raging, but Anna could see that both sides were flagging. Bodies littered the ground, and despite Anna’s inexperience with war, she could see that neither side would be victorious this day. When she climbed the small hill to the carriage, she saw Matilda watching her curiously, but she made no mention of her absence. Kathleen came running towards her.

“What happened?” she said. “Master Brant took you away and you never returned.”

“Garrick is dead.”

“Oh, Anna,” Kathleen took Anna’s hands in her own. “I’m so sorry.” Anna felt the tears gathering in her eyes, and looked away.

“I must write …” the words choked in her throat, and her chest starting heaving. She fell to the ground on her knees as Kathleen knelt down next to her and wrapped her arms around Anna’s shoulders, rocking her gently.

“Shh,” she crooned. “It’s all right.”

“He’s dead,” Anna whispered. “How can he be dead? We were supposed to be married.”

“Married?” Kathleen glanced down at her in surprise, then tightened her arms once more. “It’s all right,” she said.

She lay in Kathleen’s arms until the tears finally stopped and her body went limp. Another set of arms landed next to Kathleen’s, and Anna looked up to see Matilda kneeling down beside her.

“Come,” she said, “let’s get away from this place.” Anna nodded and allowed Matilda and Kathleen to help her to her feet. They led her to the carriage, and she collapsed into the corner of the bench. Blanche stepped behind Kathleen and glanced at Anna, and for once, remained silent.

Chapter 41

When Cameleus heard that a friend of Anna’s had been killed in the battle, he thoughtfully arranged for separate chambers to be prepared, to allow her some privacy in her sorrow. She slept little the first night, the horror and grief of the manner of Garrick’s death haunting her dreams, but when the dawn finally lightened the sky, she fell asleep. It wasn’t until early evening that she finally opened her eyes to see Kathleen sitting on a stool near the bed.

“I brought you some wine and a little food,” she said. She rose to her feet and helped Anna push herself to an upright position, adjusting the cushions behind her back as she winced at the pain that still niggled at her wrist.

“Master Brant came by this morning,” Kathleen said as she held out the bowl of beef broth for Anna. “I told him you were sleeping.” Anna nodded but said nothing. “Our army made some advances today,” Kathleen continued. “But Matilda is weary of watching battles, and chose to remain here, instead.” Anna nodded again. She leaned back against the cushions and took the wine from Kathleen’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said. Kathleen nodded, and taking the bowl, left the room, leaving Anna alone with her thoughts; but she did not want to think of battles, or Max, or Garrick. She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the house around her. She could hear children playing outside the window and the clash of metal pots as they were hauled over the flames of the stove. In the distance, the boom of cannons filled the air. Footsteps sounded outside her room, then died away down the passage. She rose from the bed, carefully wrapping a shawl around her shoulders, and went to stand at the window, staring into the distance.

She fell into an exhausted slumber that night as her aching body and weary mind cried out for rest. When she woke the following morning, there was a maid in the room, carefully pouring fresh water into the ewer.

“Please send someone up to help me get dressed,” Anna said. The woman turned, startled, and spilled water on the floor, then hastily dried it with an apron before scurrying from the room. It was Kathleen who entered a short while later.

“I heard you were awake and in need of assistance,” she said. She opened Anna’s trunk, pulled out a light blue gown and held it out shyly. “I couldn’t find Betsy, so I’ll help you get dressed,” she said. She pulled the gown over Anna’s head and tied the laces, and Anna sat down on a stool as Kathleen brushed her hair.

“Cameleus does not have such lovely gardens as we are used to,” Kathleen said, “but they have some pretty features. Would you like to explore them a little with me?”

Anna nodded and followed Kathleen through the door. The gardens were in full bloom, but Anna wandered through them listlessly. Each step seemed to take effort as she trailed behind Kathleen. She smiled when Kathleen spoke to her, but it quickly fell away again. How long did it take to heal an aching heart, she wondered?

A few days passed before Max presented himself at the house once more. Even though she hadn’t seen him, Anna had sensed his presence during her days of mourning, a warm essence that surrounded her. She had tried to ignore him, but she couldn’t deny her awareness of him. He had made no attempt, however, to speak to her since Garrick’s death on the battlefield, nor had he shown his physical presence.

She was once again in the gardens, meandering along the paths between the perennials, when Max arrived. She turned when she heard the sound of running footsteps. “Excuse me, Mistress.” It was the same maid who had brought water to her room. “There’s a gentleman here to see you. He’s waiting for you in the parlor.”

He was standing at a window when Anna walked into the room, and she saw him straighten his shoulders and breathe in deeply before slowly turning to watch her as she crossed the floor. She drew in a breath when his gaze caught hers, and she looked away.

“What are you doing here, Max?” she said.

“I cannot stay away,” he said.

“You stayed away before.” She looked back at him as she said the words. He glanced away for a moment.

“You’re right, I did. It is a regret I will have for the remainder of my days.” He turned to look out the window. “I was so angry with you, at first, but even as I tried to forget you in my waking hours, you haunted me when I slept.” He turned to look at her. “In my dreams I would tell you of the things I saw and the places I visited.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I held you in my arms in my dreams, and we danced.” Anna looked at him in surprise.