Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Cynehelme ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

Cynehelme

by kmf

Rating: PG13

Warnings: AU

Standard Disclaimer Applies

Chapter Six

Sally trudged obediently behind Trowa, her eyes fixated on the woven border that adorned his cloak. As she walked she kept replaying her parting with Relena in her mind, and as she did she began to wonder if she had just made the biggest mistake in her life.

Or was that the biggest mistake in Relena's life?

Trying to push Relena from her mind, Sally found herself recalling how she herself had first arrived as a novice at the convent. The abbey had been her escape; a place to flee from the world of whores that her mother lived in and groomed her for. Sally did not know who her father was, probably some foreign merchant given the shape of her eyes and the slight dusky hue of her skin. Even amongst the children of the whores she had been bullied because of her mixed parentage, the lowest of the low. She grew up shy and scared, untrusting of any and desperate for an escape from the slums.

Relena had been one of the first to befriend her, captivating in her childish way and completely innocent of the prejudices of racial hatred. She shook her head as she thought of the young innocent girl. Relena had actually been in the nunnery longer than Sally. She had been sent to the convent as a toddler and had been brought up protected and loved by the nuns. Sally had initially felt resentment that the child had been so protected, but as she gradually got to know Relena, this had changed. Over the years that Sally knew her, she had come to love the girl as if she was a child of her own.

However, there was always an air of mystery that surrounded Relena. When Sally had become curious about Relena's origins and asked who her true mother and father were, no answers were forthcoming. The mother superior had smiled serenely and answered that God was her father and that all the nuns were her mother.

Sally's smiling recollection soon faded though as she recalled Dorothy. From the moment she had first met Dorothy, Sally knew that she was trouble. Her face, whilst in the main expressionless, could not hide her angry eyes. And whilst she had been dutiful to the order, Sally always discerned an element of mocking under the obedience. She knew little about Dorothy. All she knew was that she was sent to the nunnery with an impressive dowry, one that only a person of high standing would be able to grant. The Mother Superior had been exceptionally quiet about Dorothy's origins, almost as quiet as she had been about Relena, although Sally now knew the reason for that.

Her thoughts returned to Relena. How could she have abandoned Relena to the elements? The only child that God would ever grant her. Sally's face fell and her fists clenched. She knew the reason. It was because she was a coward. Too afraid to go out once more into the world of men. Too afraid to be confronted as she was as a young girl because her eyes were an odd shape and her colouring different.

Sally winced as she bumped into a hard form, and she blinked up to see Trowa regarding her. "We go too slow," he said, his voice expressionless, but his eyes taking in the weather. "More snow is on its way."

The clouds did look low and black, the cold air warming a trifle, which was a sure sign that it was about to snow. Sally nodded, but made no move to follow Trowa who had started walking again. He had gone a few steps when he halted and turned to regard her again. He said nothing, but raised an eyebrow questioning her.

She bit her lip. As much as she desired the safety and security of the Abbey, she could not leave Relena alone to her fate. As much as she feared the taunts of others she could not live in the knowledge that she had abandoned Relena. Taking a deep breath, she decided.

"Take me back," she said.

* * * *

Treize Kushrinada sat upon the back of his warhorse and looked at the abbey in disdain. He believed in many Gods: Hectate, Wodin, Thor, Frea and Bel-Marduk who so desired his sacrifices to be burned. But a God of Peace was something that he could neither understand nor respect. It turned his stomach to know that his bride to be had been raised in such a place. She was amongst the spineless women who now huddled in front of him in the snow, their wimpled heads hiding ugly shorn heads, their hands clenched together as they prayed for deliverance to their God of Peace.

His men surrounded them, swords drawn but blood free. It had been distressingly easy to capture the women. They had no guards on the abbey doors and none of the village men had come forth to aid them. As soon as his warband had thundered through the snow sludge to the village, all had fled to their little huts; not one had come forth in arms to fight them. The gates to the abbey had also been left open, no attack had been foreseen and no guards set. Treize had shaken his head in disbelief. The most precious item in the land was kept inside the abbey and no one was there to protect it.

The nuns had been all found in their church, heads bowed praying to their god. One old one had protested as his men entered their sacred place, but after she had been struck for her impertinence the rest had followed orders without protest. All had filed out of the church and now knelt in the yard waiting their fate.

Treize flicked a spot of imagined dirt from his pristine leggings before dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to one of his men. Instantly his shaman was at his side, her hair unbound and shiny on her shoulders, a stark contrast to the wimpled nuns. Despite the cold, she wore no cloak, instead wore a thick long sleeved full-length under dress beneath her sleeveless calf length peplos tunic. On both her shoulders the material of the peplos was fastened together with circular broaches stamped with the symbols of her Gods. The shapeless rectangle of the dress had been given form by the girdle that pulled tightly around her narrow waist, held in place with a large ornate buckle. From the girdle hung a variety of objects: pouches, a knife, a comb, amulets and a spindle.

His shaman smiled absently as she gazed serenely at the frightened nuns. Treize was used to her temperament. When calling on her spirits and Gods she was a fearful sight, her hair bound back and her eyes steely with authority and power. When free from her shaman duties she was a different person; quiet, shy and kind. Treize looked back at the nuns kneeling in the snow.

"I search for Peacecraft. Which amongst you is she," he announced, his voice kindly and reassuring.

None of the women showed recognition of the name, except the old woman with the bruised cheek who was probably their leader. She said nothing, but redoubled her efforts at praying to her God. The Shaman observed this, her eyes narrowing slightly showing flashes of what she could become. Treize put a hand on her shoulder.

"Its alright Une," he said softly watching the hardness in her eyes fade and the softness return. She bowed her head in submission and obeyed his unspoken command. Treize moved forward to the old woman and looked down at her. "You," he said softly, and the woman's prayers ceased. She looked up at him, her old eyes defiant. "Which amongst these is Peacecraft?" he gestured at the rest of the women.

The old women's thin lips smiled a little "None" she said, satisfaction in her voice.

Trieze raised an eyebrow, quietly pleased that at least one amongst these showed a little bit of spirit. He glanced along the line of nuns wondering whether to believe the old woman. If what she said was true, he was grateful. None of the women appealed to him, not that that was important. Relena Peacecraft's status was what was important, not her desirability.

Une was once more at his side. "Sire, I cannot see your cousin," she murmured in his ear, her voice soft and gentle.

Treize nodded. Dorothy Catalonia was not here, she for one would not allow herself to be dragged out into the snow without at least some sort of protest. He turned back to the old nun, who was staring at the pagan articles hanging from Une's waist in disgust.

"Where is Dorothy Catalonia?" he asked. This time he was rewarded with murmurs of recognition of the name from amongst the other nun. He allowed himself to smile "And where is Relena Peacecraft?"

Again, the rest of the nuns recognised the name. Some began to cry softly as if the name pained them and for a moment Treize felt fear that Relena might be dead. If he no longer had access to the heir of the High Kings throne, then civil war was bound to erupt. Trieze was not a bloodthirsty man. Yes, he had killed the High King and ordered his strong hold to be torched which resulted in the death of Millardo and his pregnant wife. And yes, he enjoyed a good battle. And yes, he had killed and would kill again to get what he wanted, what he deserved. But he did not enjoy pitting his skills and prowess against ordinary people. He did not like killing peasants who had no means to protect themselves against his sword. Nor did he like the idea of the loss of revenue and instability that civil war would cause. He wanted to be firmly upon the High King's throne without the general populace questioning his right to rule. He wanted to enjoy the status now and not have to contend with years of civil unrest and disobedience.

"Where is she!" he demanded, his voice now sharp, his patience at an end.

The nun smiled sensing his irritation. "Gone," she said, ignoring his obvious irritation.

Treize crouched down in front of the woman. "Tell me where she is now," he said, curbing his temper. "If you do not, I will burn this abbey down. And if that does not encourage you, I am sure the burning of the village will." He saw the fear now in her eyes and knew that whatever she said would be the truth.

"I do not know. Four sisters, including your cousin and Relena Peacecraft, went foraging for herbs in the woods yesterday. They never returned. You interrupted a service praying for their safe return." She stared up at him, her face grim. "God will never forgive you for what you have done," she said, her eyes though frightened still defiant.

Treize nodded and stood straight, turning to survey the nearby woods. He considered the snow on the ground and the threatening clouds. If they were to track the nuns they would have to move fast.

"Wufei!" he called and instantly the warrior was in front of him bowing to his master. Trieze pointed towards the woods "Track the four nuns quickly. The weather is against us and if it snows we will have little chance of finding them quickly."

Wufei nodded again and ran to his horse, leaping up onto it and urging it into motion in one fluid movement. Treize watched him depart satisfied. Wufei was intensely loyal to Treize and would not return until he had found either the nuns or sign of them. He looked back at the still kneeling nun. Reaching down he took her by the elbow and pulled her to her feet.

"Thank you for your co-operation," he said, and gestured for the other women to rise. A look of concern spread over his face as he saw that they were wet and muddy from the snowy sludge they had been kneeling in. "Forgive me ladies, I have caused you great discomfort. Please, do not remain in the cold on my account. Return to your hearth and warm yourselves. I do not want any of you to take ill because of this questioning."

The old nun looked at him, her eyes wide with suspicion before leading the younger women back into the sanctuary of the church. Trieze motioned for his men to put away their swords and watched the women go. Une again stood by his side. In the course of his discussion with the nuns she had tied her hair back. She stood proud and tall, her eyes narrowed and calculating.

"You believe her, sire?" she questioned, her voice rough and hard as her eyes.

"They had no reason to lie," Treize replied, fingering the pommel of his sword. "I wonder why Dorothy should remove herself and Relena from the convent when she knew that I was coming."

"Do you suspect that she betrays you, Lord?" Une asked, indignation showing on her face.

Treize had to smile. Une was another of his loyal followers, trusting and devoted she could not comprehend why any should not wish to do as Treize commanded. Dorothy, however, was not so sheep like. She had a strong will of her own and it was entirely possible that she could be following her own agenda instead of his if it profited her more. Her sense of self-furtherance was the primary reason why she was in the nunnery in the first place.

Looking down at Une he saw that she still patiently waited a reply.

"If she has betrayed me," Treize finally said, his mouth smiling softly "she will soon wish that she had not." He caressed Une's check with one of his long elegant fingers and she closed her eyes blissful at the gesture.

* * * *

It did not take Wufei long to pick up the trail, four nuns stumbling through snowy woods left a path that even a blind man could follow. He did not even bother dismounting from his horse; whilst the trail was clear he travelled as fast as he could. He had no wish to let his Lord Trieze down.

This was not the first time that Trieze had chosen him above others to do his bidding, Wufei was getting a reputation for being favoured by his King. Wufei denied this though; if he was not the best and was chosen, then that would be favouritism. As it was he knew that he was the best therefore it was good sound judgement.

Wufei had worked hard to get where he was, he had always been at a disadvantage not having been born into Trieze Kushrinada's tribe. In truth he was an ex-slave. Not many would believe it now, but originally Wufei was the son of a peasant farmer destined to become a farmer himself. The fates had a different purpose in mind for him though and as a child his parents had been killed and he and his siblings carried off to be sold as slaves.

He did not know what became of his brothers and sister after they were sold, but it was more than likely they were long dead. He had been lucky that a fair man who had seen potential in Wufei's wiry shape and his agility had purchased him. Wufei had been trained as a warrior, destined to become a gladiator. His owner had been confident that he would be a fine competitor and bring him in good revenue. Unfortunately, his owner also enjoyed to drink and gamble and one night when Wufei was still relatively young his master had lost possession of Wufei in a dice game.

Wufei's next owner was not quite so considerate and enjoyed beating him at regular intervals. However, he also travelled a lot and Wufei gained the knowledge of languages and cultures different from his own. His third owner had been a merchant, a man who desired above all other things a quick profit. A good way of making a profit was in slaves, but rather than just buying and selling, he also bred. It was through this owner that he found his Meiran the woman who Wufei considered his wife.

Meiran was a slight young girl, but fiercely strong in will and spirit. Wufei had always considered himself strong and a fine warrior, but when he first tried to touch Meiran to fulfil the demands his master made that he breed with her, she had sent him flying across the room with a single well placed kick. They were both slaves, however, and Meiran paid dearly for her disobedience. Their master whipped her soundly to ensure her submission, whilst Wufei could only look on.

Their relationship had been an odd one. Whereas most couples would court first before bonding with each other, Wufei and Meiran were obliged to join first and find out about each other later. In the end their time together was brief. Soon after they realised that they were to have a child, the ship in which they were travelling with their merchant master was caught in by pirates. Meiran had sacrificed herself by throwing herself in front of a sword destined for Wufei and had died. Wufei, disgusted that he had lived and she had died had thrown himself into the sea fully expecting to die. Instead Trieze who, as luck would have it, was aboard his own merchant ship pulled him from the sea.

Trieze had taken him in, shown him kindness and given him purpose. Recognising his skills Trieze had inducted Wufei into his warband. And he had given him the most precious thing of all, he had given him his freedom. Trieze had cut his slaves shackles from his neck and wrists and promised him that they never again would be put back on. In Wufei's opinion no man had greater honour than Trieze Kushrinada did and he would give his life if it would serve him.

Wufei sniffed the air as he rode; the snow was getting nearer but he felt it would still hold off a little while. He reined in his horse seeing some odd tracks in the snow, then stopped and dismounted. Crouching, he looked around frowning and pulling on his short bound back hair. He studied the trees and their branches, before again looking at the ground.

Mounted men had ridden through. Enough to form a small warband. Wufei shook his head knowing that Trieze would not be happy at the news. He got to his feet and started to run, leading the horse at a trot. He needed now to be close to the ground so he could see the small signs and hints of passage. Soon he could see many footprints now almost erased by hoof prints. The mounted men had been following people, not just the nuns. These footprints were too large for women.

He jogged on, frowning again as the first snow flakes began to fall. He paused to consider whether he should ride on hard and risk missing some hard to spot clues, or whether he should continue on foot and see everything. Whilst he was debating, he heard a noise to his left. A twig broke, it sounded harsh in the muted snow filled air.

Instantly he moved in the direction of the sound, leaving his horse behind him. It was well trained and obedient and would remain there quiet and still until he returned or called for it. Wufei moved silently, his cream tunic blending in with his white surroundings, his hand on his sword prepared for battle if necessary.

Crouching behind one of the bare trees he saw what he sought. A man walked silently, a warrior well armed and alert. By his colours and his leg ties he was a man of Mercia. A woman walked a few paces behind; it was she who made the noise uncaring of where her foot fell. She wore black, as did the nuns at the abbey, but her head was covered with a length of orange brown cloth, and her head and neck was not bound in the white wimple that the other nuns wore.

Her head was bowed and Wufei could not make out her features, although he could see that she was tall and from her movements young, although tired. Her dress was stained and torn, her fists were clenching and unclenching as if she was preparing to fight. The warrior in front stopped and turned to regard her. She unaware of her surroundings walked into him. Words were exchanged before the warrior walked on. The nun remained where she stood, until the warrior looked back at her. Her voice came clear on the cold air.

"Take me back," she said, her head lifting so that Wufei could now see her features.

She was young, perhaps young enough to be the Peacecraft heir that Trieze sought. She seemed pretty, Wufei was impressed with the steely determination that showed in her eyes and he felt satisfied that if this was Relena Peacecraft then Trieze would be pleased. Trieze deserved a woman of spirit, a woman of determination.

As Wufei watched, the man who accompanied her nodded once and without comment began to retrace his steps, walking away from the abbey. Wufei stood and moved around the tree. He grinned when the warrior immediately detected him, spinning around and pulling forth his sword in an elegant well-practised motion. The nun's eyes went wide as she too saw Wufei. He walked forward, not yet drawing his sword and saw the warrior look at him, assessing his clothes and his weapons. Although Wufei wore no colours and was not a native Britain, he knew that the loose style of his leggings and the way he wore broaches on both shoulders of his tunic would show his allegiance.

"Lindsay!" the warrior said identifying him correctly. Wufei grinned, still walking forward.

"Are you Relena Peacecraft?" he asked, ignoring the man. The nun's mouth formed a little o shape, as she stood still and shocked. The warrior stood in front of her holding his blade at the ready. He whispered something to the woman, who backed up a couple of paces. Wufei knew that she had been given instructions to flee.

Wufei could not allow that. He moved forward, pulling his sword out of its scabbard as he ran, letting loose his war cry. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows drew together as he felt the familiar fury rise and flow through his limbs. His opponent stood still and calm, his blade raised, his eyes narrowed and firm. Reaching him, Wufei swung down with his blade. The warrior countered it, but was pushed back a pace as the force of Wufei's blade hit his own.

"Indefensible!" Wufei spat, "Stealing a woman who is not destined to be yours!" he swung again, and again was blocked. Wufei lunged another time getting a feel for how good his rival was.

"Trowa!" the nun called out in concern and Wufei grinned as he swung again.

"Stay there, nun. Soon I will take you to the man who will be your husband and master," he said, grunting as the blades once again clashed sending sparks flying into the snowy air.

Trowa fought silently, his face calm and his movement's light. He was agile and countered every blow that Wufei aimed at him, but made no real effort to fight him back. Wufei scowled, angered that the man was not fighting honourably and was about to berate him for this, when he realised that Trowa was leading Wufei away from the nun. Wufei paused, panting slightly whilst Trowa stood still in a defensive pose. Deliberately Wufei turned his head to look back at the nun who had decided to obey Trowa and was running away. Trowa frowned as he saw that Wufei had detected his diversion and sprang at him. Wufei blocked the blow, and turned and ran after the nun. Trowa ran swiftly after him.

The nun, hearing the approaching footfall of both men, turned and looked back at them. She stopped knowing that both men could easily outpace her and pressed her back against a tree. Wufei satisfied that she would not disappear on him slowed his pace and spun to face Trowa. Trowa, not expecting him to do this, skidded to a halt a little off balance. Wufei saw that for a moment he had an advantage and used it. He swung his heavy blade again and again. Trowa countered, but each block pushed him further off balance. His leather shoe skidded on the slippery snow covered grass and he fell back, his sword flying from his hand as he hit the ground. Wufei grinned at his now prone foe lifted his blade high preparing to make the killing blow.

As his blade swiftly moved down a black shape sped in front of him throwing itself over Trowa. Wufei realised it was the nun and with great difficulty pulled back his blow feeling his shoulder muscles protest uncomfortably as he did so. He swore as the point pushed into the nun's habit and almost sighed in relief when he felt that it punctured no skin. He stood still and shocked reliving the moment when Meiran had done the very same thing in his own defence. Gathering himself, he pulled the sword back and glared at the woman.

"How dare you get in the way of a battle," he grated, shock making his voice harsh. Staring past her into the face of the warrior he defeated he saw dazed surprise in his green eyes. Ignoring the look on Trowa's face he bent down and pulled the nun off him and prepared again to dispatch his foe.

"If you ever want to find Relena Peacecraft you will not harm a hair on Trowa's head!" the nun hissed from where he had thrown her. She tilted her head up to gaze at him, her eyes angry and narrow.

Wufei looked closely at her and realised that he had indeed been mistaken. This woman was no woman of Kent; her slightly tilted eyes gave away that she, like him, had oriental blood coursing through her veins. Her veil had slipped from her head when he had thrown her away revealing reddish gold short hair, which was now being coated in falling snow. Swearing, he reversed his sword and aimed a blow to the warrior's head. His foe slumped unconscious on the wet ground as Wufei cast his eyes to the heavens.

The weather was against him and he had no hope of tracking Relena now. The distraction of the fight had taken too much time and snow was quickly hiding any tracks that remained. He could only take this fiery nun and her companion back to Treize and hope that they would be able to lead them to where the Peacecraft heir was hidden.

TBC