Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cynehelme ❯ Chapter Nineteen ( Chapter 19 )

Cynehelme

by kmf

Warnings: AU

Rating: PG13

Standard Disclaimer applies

Chapter Nineteen

Heero rode swiftly, his hands gripping his reins and his eyes alert for danger. Ahead, rode the scout that reported Treize's troops massing, leading the warband to their location. Heero allowed his eyes to sweep back over his men satisfied that they were all as prepared as they ever would be.

Each man carried a sword, a shield and a spear and each man knew how to use them. The spears borrowed a long forgotten design left behind by the Romans that had once inhabited the villa by way of a mosaic depicting combat. The spearhead was long and thin, almost flimsy. It was designed to be thrown once; with skill and a little luck it would impact with a shield and the weight of the shaft of the spear would cause the blade to bend. This would hook it into the shield and make it difficult to remove, forcing the shield to be discarded as it would be unwieldy to hold.

Tactics such as this could prove to be the deciding factor of a battle where the opponents all were skilled in the use of swords. And if this failed, then Heero had one or two other tricks up his sleeve. However, this battle was not his to lead.

Beside him rode his father, his King. Odin had decided that he too would take to the battle field, despite the protests of his advisors. Odin had listened and had nodded, but then had held his hands up to hear no more arguments.

"We will win this battle decisively; it will give the men courage," he said, "I will ride to this first battle with my son; I want to be there to assess the strengths and weaknesses of Treize myself."

Heero knew that his father's decision was not a reflection of his own ability; many times had Odin praised him and he had also agreed with Heero's assessment of the likely points of attack. But still, he felt like he had been demoted and it riled him. What angered him more was that his father seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and took great delight in it. Sometimes, Heero thought, he could do without the constant competition between himself and his king.

His mood was not improved by his inability to see Relena prior to leaving. He had presented himself once more at the door to his own chamber only to be turned away by the nun Sally. He had even stooped to peering over the nun's shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of Relena and had been rewarded by the sight of her standing by the fire, the glow of the flames touching her white robes and hair almost illuminating her. Her face was hidden by the fall of her hair as she kept her head bowed, but he knew that she heard his voice by the way her hands clenched.

"Tell her that I go to war and would see her before I leave," Heero had said to Sally, never once looking at the nun but rather keeping his eyes on Relena.

"I am sorry, but Sister Relena cannot see you at the moment," Sally said, her own posture stiff and defensive.

Heero had torn his eyes from Relena to look at the nun. "She is not a nun, nor will ever be," he said.

Sally's eyes narrowed, "By whose choice is that?" she demanded, before making to shut the door.

Heero had lifted his eyes once more to try an appeal to Relena, but she had moved from the fire and no longer could be seen. He had glared at Sally before falling back and allowing her to shut the door. Almost seconds later his father had brushed by him and knocked, his smirk evidence that he had witnessed the exchange between Heero and Sally.

Sally had once again opened the door, her scowl not brightening much as she opened the door wider and allowed the King entrance without question. She flushed at Heero's stare and had closed the door quickly leaving Heero alone and frustrated in the hall.

Heero's hands gripped his reins tighter at the memory deciding that as soon as the battle was over and he returned to his stronghold he would seek Relena out once again and this time make her see him and listen to him, no matter what.

"Save that temper for the enemy," his father's voice carried over the sounds of hoof fall, the amusement evident in his tone. Heero grimaced before Odin spoke again, "Relena wished me bid you goodbye," he said, "although why she could not tell you directly, I don't know."

Heero's eyes narrowed further at what he perceived to be a taunt and did as his father bid. He pushed his anger down into the pit of his stomach, saving his rage for the battle that was to come.

* * * * *

Not ten minutes after the combined warbands of Heero and Odin had left the stronghold, Relena found herself at the gates. Her hair was covered by a shawl and her face downcast as Noin told the guards that they had been sent to seek healing herbs to help tend to the injured warriors that were sure to be returning to the stronghold that evening.

The guard had looked at them first with surprise and then with suspicion. "It is too dangerous for you to wander; what if Treize attacks here direct and you are trapped outside?"

Dorothy glared at the man, "Have you no faith in your own scouts?" she demanded, "Haven't they reported that the only troops near by are the ones King Odin has gone to fight?"

"Why are there not enough herbs in stock already?" the guard was not put off by Dorothy's tone.

"There are," Dorothy replied, turning around slightly, "but what the Druid has requested is some fresh herbs." Her eyes narrowed slightly, "Shall I go and tell him that you refused to allow us to gather what he needs?"

The guard hesitated for a moment, then gestured that they could walk through. "Don't stray far," he warned, "If I receive orders to close the gates they will be closed whether you are on the inside or the outside,"

"I understand," Dorothy said, leading the way.

Relena felt shaky as she walked out the gates, expecting at any moment a shout of alarm to be called alerting the guards to the fact that the Peacecraft heir, the one who the war was being fought over, was escaping. She felt sly and underhanded the further she walked from the villa, imagining Heero's expression when he found that she was no longer there.

...Heero...

Over the last few days she had refused to see him at all for the simple reason that if she spoke with him, if she looked into his blue eyes, her resolve at doing what she knew was the right thing would waver. The temptation to stay near him was sure to overwhelm her desire to bring peace to the land. Instead, she had refused to see him, listening only to his at first surprised voice which had each day turned colder every time he came to her door.

What she was doing was correct, of this she was sure. She would see that this pointless war was ended before too many lives were lost. Even though it meant sacrificing herself to the one who had killed her father and brother.

"Keep up!"

Dorothy's acid voice made her look up in surprise and she realised that she had fallen behind the other three women. Woodland was close and a quick glance over her shoulder showed her that the villa was now far in the distance, the guard not even now discernible at the gates. Looking forward, Relena saw that the other three had stopped and were looking at her closely.

"Have you changed your mind?" Noin asked quietly, jiggling her baby that had woken up and was gurgling noisily trying to get his mother's attention.

"It is too late for her to change her mind," Dorothy glared at Noin, and then at Relena as if daring her to argue.

Relena took a deep breath and walked forward swiftly so that she reached her companions, and passed them, her movements her answer to Noin's question. She would go on, no matter what.

* * * * *

Millardo approached Treize's camp cautiously. The guards that surrounded it were well trained and alert. He smirked; although not alert enough to stop him making his way to the heart of the camp. His smile faded as he crouched down to avoid another guard pacing his way along a well trodden route between two sentry points. He was not pleased that Treize had come so close to the villa that housed his wife, child and sister.

Millardo was tired, his bones ached with his weariness. In the few days since he had delivered his wife into the care of the Mercians, although they knew not who she was, he had travelled long and hard to the borders of the other major powers. There he had spread rumours of an empty High King's throne just waiting to be plucked by the strongest nation and a Princess abducted by the Mercians who were determined to claim the throne as their own. And of course all listened and heeded his words, as he knew they would. Power and greed drove the Kings.

And it disgusted Millardo. Since the birth of his son he cared not for such things. The only thing that he wanted now was peace and security for his family and he was damn sure he was going to get it.

Warbands from the nations were all converging on Mercia soon to clash in a battle that no one would ever forget. It would be a battle to end all battles, the loss of life would be such that all would be sickened by it and turn away from the very thought of war. Then he would take Lucrezia, their child and Relena and they would live peacefully for the rest of their lives.

Inching forward, shielded by brush, he saw ahead of him a gathering of men and one woman. Treize he recognised immediately. His profile was one that Millardo would never be able to forget, the sight of it illuminated by the flames of his burning home had been etched into Millardo's mind forever. Beside him stood his Shaman, although she was harder to recognise. When last he had seen her she had been tall and proud, but now her head was bowed as her Lord pointedly ignored her.

Treize was discussing tactics with his men, his words travelling on the cool breeze to Millardo's curious ears.

"....get a tally of numbers of troops and their skills. By then our main force will have arrived and we will be able to mount a direct attack on the stronghold," Treize was pointing at a map, his men nodding their agreement.

Millardo frowned. So Treize had already begun attacking Mercia. Well, what he was about to tell them should change their mind, he thought. Standing slowly he let himself be seen by the sentries, who cried out a warning and rushed towards him, swords drawn and threatening.

He raised his hands slowly so show that he held no weapon, but that did not stop the first to reach him from grabbing him by the cloth of his cloak and holding his sword to his neck. Treize watched impassively, an eyebrow arched before giving the orders to bring him closer.

Millardo found himself being dragged forward roughly and shoved to his knees in front of the Lindsey ruler before his sword was removed from his scabbard and tossed carelessly to one side. He winced at the sound of the fine metal striking a stone as it hit the earth, but then turned his attention back to Treize.

Treize was looking at him closely, his posture one of indifference but his eyes giving away just how alert he was. For a moment Millardo feared that he might be recognised; although it was true he had never met Treize prior to the day when he witnessed the burning of his home but there were songs describing Millardo's appearance sung by bards of Kent. If Treize did recognise him, then his death would be swift.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh drew Millardo's attention behind him. The sentries who had captured him had fallen back, one on to his backside, their noses bloody. Before them stood a foreign soldier, his fist still clenched and his face one of rage.

"He was inside the perimeter," the man was saying loudly, "You are both unworthy of the trust that was given to you to guard Lord Treize!"

"Enough, Wufei," Treize spoke quietly, "I will see to their punishment personally later."

Both the berated guards paled at his words and hastily moved away from the still obviously irate Wufei. Millardo eyed the guard with curiosity; Treize was known to participate in the trade of slaves but this man appeared to be a free man, the bands of slavehood were not visible on his wrists or ankles and he also commanded the respect of most of his fellow men.

"Who are you?" Treize asked, and Millardo turned to see that the King of Lindsey was once again watching him closely.

"My name is Zechs," he replied giving Treize his full attention, "I have come bearing information that you might find useful."

Treize raised an eyebrow. "Really," he said, "Of that I doubt. You are not dressed as a man of Mercia. You do not sound Mercian. What information could you have that would be of any possible use to me?"

Millardo allowed his mouth to curl up into a small smile. "Believe me; Mercia is the least of your problems at the moment," he lifted his head and looked directly at Treize before climbing slowly to his feet. He paused to brush himself down, giving Treize the time to object to his movements.

Treize's eyes narrowed, but then he smiled and crossed his arms. "Please do inform me of just what my problem is," he drawled.

"Your fellow kings are amassing along the Mercian borders. Word has come to them that the High King's throne is empty and can be fought for," Millardo paused gauging Trieze's expression.

Treize stood quite still as he listened to his captive's words. He glanced to his Shaman woman who stood a few paces behind him. "You have not discerned this."

It was not a question, rather a statement.

The woman raised her head to look at Treize and Millardo saw for the first time that her eyes were strangely blank.

"The spirits have not been with me of late," she said in a quiet tone before lowering her head once more.

Treize stood watching her for a time, before turning back to Millardo. "Where is your proof?" he asked, his tone cool.

Millardo smiled. "What proof do I need? The Kings have heard that the High King is dead. They have heard that the one who killed him is in Mercia and that the Peacecraft heir is in the hands of the Mercians. They all see the opportunity that this presents to their respective kingdoms; gain the heir and gain the throne," he paused waiting for Treize to speak. When he did not, Millardo continued. "They will all battle on the land of Mercia for what they desire. The question is, will any be alive at the end of it to win?"

* * * *

Quatre shook his head a little trying to dispel the nagging disquiet feeling that was swirling around him. It had started to wrap around him like a fragile spiders web some hours before when it had been easy to shrug off as a natural nervousness given their current state of war. But gradually over the hours the feeling had increased so that it now wrapped around him like a thick rope. He could no longer ignore it.

Pacing through the courtyard he looked about for the reason why he should feel such nervousness. Women talked quietly amongst themselves, the worry for their men evident in their voices. Such emotions would contribute to his unease, but Quatre was sure that this was not the sole reason for his concern.

As he walked, he began to mutter a few charms to try and ease himself of the constricting feeling, aware that the people looked at him with curiosity. He smiled at them trying to convey a sense of peace and goodwill, but from their reactions of averting their gazes he was sure he failed miserably. Taking himself away from them, he walked towards the gates and boundary, which were manned by both the very young and older men.

A warrior at the gate looked at him then glanced nervously over his shoulder to the woods in the distance, before looking back to Quatre. Quatre's concern spiked and he almost stumbled at the feeling. He walked towards the man, who bowed respectfully to the Druid.

"They are not back yet," the man said, once again glancing outside the gates. "I did warn them not to go too far..."

Quatre swallowed once before questioning in what he hoped was a steady voice. "Who are you referring to?"

The man raised an eyebrow. "The young lad and the three women who went searching for fresh herbs for you."

"For me...." Quatre repeated looking out the gate, frowning. "Who were they?"

The guard now looked nervous. "You mean you didn't order it?" he asked, before swiftly continuing at the look on Quatre's face. "A young lad I didn't know with a smart mouth on him, the new woman Noin and her baby, the nun that came in the other night and another woman I didn't know."

Quatre felt his heart sink. Noin and the baby worried him enough; there was something special about the child although Noin never let him close enough to ascertain what it was. But even more worrying was the nun and the unknown woman. Could that possibly be Relena? And the smart mouthed lad, Dorothy? Quatre gripped his staff to support himself.

"Quatre!"

Turning he saw Catherine rushing across to him, her skirts held high to give her greater speed. Reaching him, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to one side away from the guard so that he could not overhear. Pitching her voice low she said the words that made Quatre's heart sink even further.

"I cannot find Relena!"

He looked back out the gate and silently cursed himself. If he had followed his intuition several hours ago he might have stopped the Princess leaving the confines of the stronghold. He was certain that the unknown woman was her and that she and the others had left following Dorothy. Their purpose? Probably Relena given the gentle spirit she was had gone with the intention of trying to stop the war. Dorothy probably had a completely different agenda.

Quatre turned to the guard. "Get me a horse!" he demanded, his voice uncommonly harsh.

The guard blinked in his surprise and scurried off to do as he was bid, whilst Catherine placed a hand on his arm.

"What is it?" she asked, concern for him flooding her voice.

"I have made a terrible mistake," Quatre whispered, placing a hand on top of hers and squeezing gently trying to reassure her, "But hopefully it is not too late to rectify it."

* * * *

Sounds of the battle reached their ears long before they saw any visual evidence of it. Dorothy's eyes had grown bright and she increased her pace, her face glowing in her excitement. At first all they could hear were the metallic sounds of swords clashing, but the nearer they got the more the noises resolved into clearly heard battle cries, screams of triumph and of pain, and the groans of men dying.

The battle itself was taking place in a small valley, bordered by woodland in which the women hid to observe. Relena wanted to shield her eyes from the sight but found it oddly compelling, mesmerising in fact.

"Glorious, isn't it!" Dorothy said approvingly, hugging herself in glee as she watched the combat.

"This is dangerous!" objected Noin, "Why did you bring us so close to the battle?"

Dorothy raised an eyebrow, but did not take her eyes away from the fight before her. "Where there is battle, Treize will be near," she explained, before pointing into the distance, "See! Over on the far ridge,"

The three other women looked and saw three horsemen sitting still watching the progress of the battle.

"Scouts," Dorothy said with certainty, frowning as they suddenly turned their horses and sped away. "They go east, which is where we will find Treize....although I am puzzled as to why they don't wait for the outcome of the battle."

Relena continued to be transfixed by the sight of men fighting before her, swords glinting in the sun, snow and earth turning a deeper scarlet. She searched for Heero amongst the battling masses and was rewarded by seeing him at the front of his warband standing high in the stirrups, his sword held high directing the movement of his men. Although she was too distant to see his features, she could well imagine his eyes glinting dangerously and cold as he fought for his country.

The image of him breathing heavily from the effort of fighting, his hand gripping his sword tightly, his men obeying him without question made Relena's heart flutter a little and she frowned at the unwanted feelings. War was something to be avoided, not gloried in and she was irritated that even for a moment she felt desire for her perceived image of Heero.

Dorothy touched her arm, making her jump. "You understand now, don't you!" she whispered, "You understand the compelling image of battle."

Relena's frown deepened. "No," she stated firmly, "You are wrong. This is nothing to be gloried in. Men are dying before you, lives that cannot be replaced."

Dorothy made no answer, instead was staring off into the distance. Behind Heero's warband another group of warriors had appeared and were charging forward to catch the Mercians between themselves and the Lindsey warriors.

"...who..?" Noin murmured staring at the newcomers that the Mercians were, so far, unaware of.

"Wessex!" Dorothy exclaimed recognising their banner, her fists clenching. "Why are they here?"

Relena felt her mouth go dry as the Wessex warriors unsheathed their blades and urged their horses on directing their movements to the Mercian's unguarded backs. Heero fought on unaware of the impending force coming towards him and Relena moved forward a few steps, took a deep breath and cried out as loud as she could, waving her arms madly trying to get his attention.

"Heero!"

It was impossible that he could hear her from his distance from her, the clash of blades and the battle cries of men would completely drown her out. And yet as his name left her mouth she saw him stiffen in the saddle and turn to look in her direction. She could not see his face, she could not see his lips move, but she was sure she caught his words floating across the valley to her tinged with surprise.

"....Relena..."

TBC