The Poles were dancing again.
Catty sat near the doorway, watching the soldiers and women spin and stomp their feet in the dining hall, tables and chairs pushed to the walls to make room. There was some big party at the King's palace, apparently, to which SHE had not been invited. Neither had the soldiers. Unlike her, they were not stewing at the (understandable) slight. Instead, they were making their own fun. Catty could understand that. She could also, to her surprise, understand the music. There was a seductive rhythm to it, a beat which seemed to seep inside you. Seemingly against her will, the Queen found her right leg bouncing up and down in time with the notes. A strange sound was heard. It was her, voice unconsciously mimicking the melody. Part of her wanted to stop. It was embarrassing. Another part...
"Catty."
She looked up. Far had stood, the other three of her soldiers, companions, friends, still seated near her. And he had used her name. Not "your Highness", but...
"Should we try dancing with the primitives, Catty?" His voice was a smile, his face a song.
Dance. He wanted to dance with her. Dances were... intimate. Emotional. Catty... she had never, really, danced. Not... not with a male. Not like that. He stood over her, Catty's dream mate, hand reaching out to her. His hand...
"Y...yes."
How she said the words, Catty didn't know, neither her mind nor body was hers to command. As if drawn by his magnetic pull, her hand lifted. Far took it. Their hands had touched often. Never had her entire being trembled at the contact. She stood.
As if her movement was a signal, the music ended. The Poles were laughing, talking. Those playing instruments set them momentarily aside, taking long drinks from mugs and flasks. One of the women, an older, slightly portly Pole, came over to Catty. Her face was flush, sweat glistening on her neck.
"Oh! Are you going to dance with us, Queen Catty? Wonderful!" The woman turned before Catty could think of a reply, hands giving one clap. "The Elves are going to dance with us! Play a good one!"
The music started again. The humans paired off, moving and spinning. Catty had no idea what to do!
Gentle hands turned her. She faced Far. He stepped up to her, one hand touching her waist, the other taking her left hand. She trembled.
"Just do what I do," he whispered. Catty nodded. Almost instantly she was moving, circling.
Dancing.
****
Whether she danced for moments, or an eternity, Catty couldn't say. She knew they paused, clapping their hands together as the Poles did to honor those playing the music. Her other three remaining friends also took their turns spinning with her around the room. For all they had spent months together, fled and fought for their lives, for the first time she felt one with them. Yet, it was when the young Elf woman was once again in her Far's arms that she felt complete. Felt...
Wanted.
****
The music had stopped again. The people around her talked, refilled their drinks. She sensed, in that way she sometimes did, the mood of the room had shifted. To what, she was not sure. There was much touching among the Poles, casual, teasing. Catty found herself looking away, both embarrassed, and... excited.
"Here." Det stood before her, a mug in his hand. She took it, grateful. "It's just water."
She drank, eyes closed. She could feel it going down into her, refilling reservoirs drained in the dancing.
"She looks tired, Far, You should get her some fresh air."
"I think I will. You three staying?"
"I think we'll go back to our quarters. We've amused the Poles enough."
Catty felt the now empty mug taken from her. She smiled at her friends, receiving theirs in return as Far gently guided her out of the room. Her body, of its own accord, leaned against him. He was so... so Far. That was the only way she could find to describe him.
"This way, Your Highness."
The blast of cool, even cold, air hit her as Far held open the barracks door. The hazy fog fled her, arms moving to hug a body not clad for such temperatures. Far was warm beside her, though, her body moving even tighter against him.
The brown skinned Shanna had asked Catty if her people could see in the dark. A silly thing to ask. Compared to who? Catty could not see through Polish eyes. Thus, she knew not if those of her people were better, or worse. She saw the movement, though, as the two of them paused in the doorway. Saw something person shaped fall through the darkness onto the ground near the western wall. It hit the ground with a thud, a sound devoid of life. Her eyes rose. On the walkway following the top of the the wooden wall, a dark form stood. Behind them, another shape rose up, climbing over the barrier meant to protect them.
"Catty!" She was shoved aside, stumbling along the wooden porch. Her eyes shot to Far. Her love had jumped in the other direction. Behind where they had been, an arrow penetrated the floor boards.
How dare they.
How DARE THEY!
Fury rose in the Elven Queen. Unbidden, words formed before her, vanishing as their meaning slipped out from the aether. The air shimmered. Another arrow came. It flew close to her left cheek, only to spin away as if swatted. She stepped forward, not noticing the change from porch to dirt. She saw them. Saw the invaders. Saw the dead guards, saw the living guards locked in battle. Saw her Far, grabbing a hunk of wood to protect her from the oncoming man.
No.
"FLAME!"
Catty extended her right arm, two fingers extended. Fire shot out from between them, rushing forward like burning water. It struck the male who had just dropped down to the ground, his entire Polish being igniting as if made of tinder. Screams tore into the night.
Movement above. Catty raised her arm, whipping the rope of flame upward. Two more creatures ignited.
Poles were rushing out of the barracks behind her. On the northern wall, someone was running along it, heading for the gate.
She turned him into a pyre.
****
Shanna pulled back on the reins as flame shot from inside her distant fort.
It... it couldn't be possible. Nothing in this world could do that. She blinked, leaning back in the saddle, as if gaining distance would give her enough perspective to disprove what she was seeing.
Another tendril of flame disabused her of that. It also awoke her mind to the fact her companions had not stopped. Anelie and Piotr were now far down the road. Groaning in frustration at her own stupidity, Shanna kicked her heels into Black Beauty, her mount leaping forward.
At almost the same moment, a horse's scream tore through the darkness.
"Damn!" Shanna dug her heels even further into her horse, body lower, every fiber of her being willing them to go faster. The sounds of an animal in agony came again, pitiful, heartbreaking. Whose horse? She almost didn't want to know!
She saw them. Saw the poor animal on the ground, trying to stand and failing, head raised as it let out its cries of pain. Saw, in the road...
Piotr.
"NO!"
She almost broke her poor mount's neck pulling back on the reins. Shanna dropped to the ground at a run, not wanting to believe. No. No...
Piotr lay in a rut in the wagon road, body still. One arm lay twisted, jutting out the way no limb should. His horse flailed beside him, an arrow in its chest. Shanna threw herself beside him, hands clutching at him.
"Please, please, please, please..."
He had been crushed. She knew it. Knew the horse had rolled over him. Knew... knew...
The most infinitesimal of gasps came to her ear.
Shanna let out a wail which drowned out the horse. He was in agony! Piotr was in pain and dying, and there were no doctors here! No hospitals! Even if he could be saved, he couldn't be! She clutched his uniform, forehead touching his chest.
"Don't die! Please! I love you!" Shanna turned her head, ear on his heart. "I love you..."
****
In some part of her mind, Shanna heard the sound of hooves. The sound of her friend.
"I ran one down, Lady Shanna. The other..."
Both sounds stopped. She felt a presence beside her.
"Oh, God! Lady, we have to tie off his arm! My God! Lady!" There was a pause. Shanna pressed herself closer to her man, somehow imagining she heard his heartbeat. "I... I'll do it. You stay there, Shanna. Keep him warm. I... just a second!"
His heart. His wonderful heart...
It beat. She did hear it beat. She wasn't imagining it. Shanna raised her head. Anelie was beside her, the first aid kit Shanna had insisted each soldier and mount carry open on the ground beside her. Her friend, lover, was tying a tourniquet above Piotr's elbow, just as Shanna had taught her.
She could save him. THEY could save him!
"I..." Shanna forced herself upright, pushing aside the torrent of emotions overwhelming her. "I can do it, Anelie." Her friend glanced at her, determined, terrified, unsure. "I'm OK. Go to the fort. Get the wagon out here, blankets."
"Lady!" Anelie tied off the tourniquet, jumping to her feet when she was done. She ran to her horse. Shanna took a deep, ragged breath.
"I can do this. Oh, Piotr, stay alive..."
****
Catty let her arms drop.
It was over.
Exhaustion suddenly washing over her, the Elf Queen released her magic. She felt it floating away from her, back to the world from which she had taken it. Shield now gone, she stood exposed to the world. Trembling, she looked at what she had done.
Flames lit the stockade wall. Polish men and woman were forming a line, buckets of water passing from the well to the fires. Two of her friends were in that line, helping. Should she help? Around her lay the dead. Many were strangers, in strange armor. Others... she knew. More dead in the service of her. That they were not Elven did not matter.
Catty saw Far approaching slowly, limping slightly. She had done this for him. Fought, killed, for him. She would do anything for him.
"Are you OK, My Queen?" he asked. Tears came to her eyes.
"Will you be my King?"
Far stopped where he was, straightening.
"Yes."
"Then I am all right."
"Open the gate!"
There was a shout from outside the fort. Both Elves turned, recognizing it. Polish soldiers swiftly moved to un-bar the gate, pushing it open. Anelie rode into the fort, dress bunched around her waist as her bare legs straddled the horse. She reined in hard.
"I need a wagon, blankets, and a medic! Piotr's down, and it's bad!"
"God," the Pole Lewy said, running to her, "this never ends! We have wounded here, but I'll go. Casimir! Get a wagon!"
"Come, My Queen," Far said, putting an arm around Catty. "Let's help."
"Yes..."
****
The message filled two of the chalkboard slates, the precisely formed letters belying the horror described. James read them again. And again. Anger built.
They dared. They DARED! His head shot up, eyes scanning the room. And there had been a warning. Conversation overheard in that very ballroom, nobles or others of rank AWARE of the upcoming attack! Perhaps even its instigators!
James looked down at the message again. Made sure he had the details. Forced himself to be calm. Decisions made in anger never led to happiness, and decisions he had to now make. The world had changed. Nowy Poland had to change. Motioning to Ola, he softly gave his commands. There was no hint of question in his Chamberlain's eyes. Nodding, he moved off, passing on the King's orders.
James took another deep breath. Organized his thoughts. Saw guards beginning to shift around the room. He also saw some of the more observant revelers notice. He had to act. Duda and Nowak following, James moved to the short platform the musicians were using. He took the two steps quickly, moving to the center of the stage. Not quite abruptly, the players ended the piece at his command. The crowd murmured in surprise, confusion. He saw those young women he had not danced with coming to the fore, pretty faces upset as they assumed he was now making his pick.
They would be more upset in a moment. His guards on either side, a few more coming to stand before the stage, James raised his hand. Duda cracked the bottom of his pike against the stage.
"His Grace, King James the First!"
The people bowed and curtsied before him. This gave him a better view of the back of the room. The doors were now barred. Good. James shifted his feet apart, hands clasped behind him.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of Poland!" He paused. Yes. They were of Poland. Yet, not Poland as it should be. Anger again flowed through him.
"My fellow Poles. As we have danced here this evening, our homeland has been attacked!" Murmurs from the crowd. Some distressed, some... probably not. He saw his men scanning the assembled for those with interesting reactions. Those nobles he would converse with later. "Not by outsiders. No. We have been attacked by our own. By fellow Poles who wish us ill." Now there was confusion. He took a step forward. "Bandits, Rebels, whatever they wish to call themselves, attacked the fort of Lady Shanna, the Dark Hussar, who herself danced among you this evening. The attack most likely was aimed at the Elven Queen, my guest, whose safety I have guaranteed."
More murmuring. He saw Captain Putaski talking to one of the King's men, getting his own update.
"The attack has failed. Utterly. All are dead or captured."
Not true, most likely. Enough had been slain for it to make for a reasonable public stand, though. Let the traitors here panic.
"It was not without cost. Five of our own were killed. More were wounded, including..." his eyes went to Commander Kosciuszko, "the commander of my personal mounted guard." Even from this distance, he saw Andrzej's eyes eyes widen in shock. James nodded to him. "Commander, I want your men turned out. The island searched for more of these treasonous idiots." From the set of his face, James knew the job would be done more than adequately.
James turned his eyes on the rest of the crowd.
"I have been too nice. Too... accommodating. I was willing to allow you to remake this society a mirror of the old, to only slowly try and issue the changes I wished to see." Anger built in him again. "I am done with that. You had your chance. Your chance to prove to me that Polish society deserved to continue as it was. Yet, some of you were involved in this attack. You did not come to me with your grievance, did not try for a peaceful solution, but instead sent armed thugs to attack friends of the King." He shook his head. "So be it. I hereby declare the end to all privileges of Noble Rank."
From the stunned silence, James suspected they did not understand. COULD not understand. He motioned Ola forward.
"I am issuing a proclamation. From this day forward, no hereditary titles apart from King and his immediate heirs shall bring with them any power or influence recognizable by this Court." Now he saw the disbelieving anger. "Further more, within a month I shall ask for districts of this fine nation to select delegates to a Council to advise the King. There shall be no requirements regarding heredity, rank, or gender." He turned to to Chief Ajani. "Or Race. I would ask you to send a representative, my friend. For your people to be one with our Nation."
"I would be HONORED, Your Grace." Ajani bowed low, as did the other Kikker with him.
"YOUR GRACE!" A Nobleman stepped forward, pushing aside some of the confused ladies standing before the stage. He stopped a few feet from the guards, eyes raised to the King. "Your Grace! This is an outrage! We will NOT...!"
"You will, I think. You have no ancestral land here, no manors, no estates. Those things must come from the crown. I am simply... refusing to do so." He smiled. "You will stand in the same line as the farmers and glass blowers. Or leave the borders of this Kingdom. The walls are to keep things OUT, after all, not in."
Someone stepped up to the man, pulling him back into the crowd. At the far end of the room, James saw his men stop three men trying to leave. More people to question. His eyes dropped to the gathering of ladies before him.
"One final announcement before I retire to attend to the crisis outside these walls. This evening was intended to help me select a bride, a young Lady to become your Queen. The Nobles wished one of their own to fill this role, and I acquiesced. However..." He smiled apologetically down at them, eyes finding Lusia, "that need no longer be the case. I am now free to follow my heart's, and mind's, desire. Ewa." He turned towards the Eastern wall, hand outstretched. Ewa stood against the wall, shock on her face. "I choose Ewa, daughter of Marik and Tekla."
There was some applause, among the general mumbles of unrest. Applause from those who knew the Court, knew the King and the obvious feelings between the two. As Ewa slowly walked towards him, he saw Lusia one of those clapping. There was almost relief on her face. Once Ewa was beside him, Duda moving so he now flanked the couple, James took her hand.
"Lady Ewa is currently with my child. He or she, as well as all born from our union, shall be my heirs." There were tears in Ewa's eyes. James squeezed her hand. "I wish to also announce to the Kingdom that we are adopting the orphaned infant Marik, who has been in Ewa's care since the Exodus. He shall be as my son, older brother to our future children."
Ewa leapt at him, arms wrapping around his body. He closed his eyes, holding her.
"I love you," he whispered. She squeezed him harder, her tears staining his shirt.
"And I, you... Husband."
****
The mess hall had become a surgery.
Shanna had not watched as Piotr's arm had been sawed off with a steel saw cleansed in boiling water. Nor had she been able to look as the end of the stump was burned closed with the side of a heated sword. She had stayed at his side, eyes averted as she held his other hand. She hoped she had taught them well. Hoped to God and Jesus above that she was right in her knowledge, right in knowing what local knowledge to reject, and what to accept. She sent another prayer up, in case the first twenty hadn't gotten through.
She looked around the room. So many. So many dead, hurt. Only one casualty among her company, a minor slash to the arm. It was the guards on the wall who had born the brunt of the assault. They had died, protecting the others.
They had died for her.
"His Grace is here!"
Shanna took a deep breath. Turning, she saw James come into the room, Piotr's father beside him. The older man looked like she felt. How many men had he seen die? How many friends? The two walked through the occupied tables, saying a few words to the soldiers who were still conscious. They stopped beside her.
"How is he?" James asked. Shanna sighed, squeezing her love's hand.
"OK, I think, until we see what infections show up. I wish I had watched more medical shows, but I found them boring." He nodded. She looked at Piotr's Dad. "He has at least a cracked rib or two, we think. Not that bad. And at least it was his left hand, not the right."
He nodded, hand reaching out to touch Piotr's blanket covered leg. James motioned with his head, moving away from the pair. Shanna followed.
"We have one Noble we're questioning," he told her, softly. "We'll see where that leads. We'll move the Queen into the Palace."
"I'm sorry," she told him. He shook his head.
"Not your fault, and you DID protect her. This isn't on you."
"Yeah." She looked back at Piotr. Someone had pulled a chair over, his father now sitting by his side. "I know."
"Is this still what you want?"
Her eyes shot back to James. He was offering her a way out. A different path. She did not have to stay a soldier. She could...
"Yes. I still want this."
"OK," he nodded. "Come spring, we'll see about moving the fort somewhere more strategic, make it bigger, stronger."
"Sounds good." Her eyes went back to Piotr. "We'll all be stronger come spring."
****
"You have my support in all this, Your Grace. In case you had any doubts."
James looked at Captain Putaski in surprise as they walked up the mountain path. He cocked his head.
"All of it, Captain?"
"Well..." he stopped as the two of them rounded a bend, the hot spring now in view. The Kikker Adanya stood half submerged, the hulking Bogdi beside her. As they watched, Bogdi picked up a small tadpole the size of his thumb. The Captain let out a sigh. "I will admit, this is a bit much."
"Tell me about it," James chuckled. "It's going to take awhile to accept it, fully."
"For the rest, though... the army is with you, Your Grace. Fully."
That military rank was now the ONLY rank probably had something to do with it. James was no fool. He nodded.
"Still, after housing, I think the Palace walls should move to the top of our priorities."
"Agreed, Your Grace."
****
The weddings were held outside the church, the chilly day thankfully wind-free. The altar from the new church had been carried out, placed on the stone walkway before the wooden building. All around, the people were gathered, high and low born alike. Human, Kikker, and Elf.
James stood next to the Elf Far. Neither was focused on the other. Both had eyes only on their bride.
Ewa marched down the stone aisle, the Elven Queen beside her. Soldiers lined the walkway, motionless. A band played an unrecognizable, yet clearly appropriate, song, its notes sweet, yet godly. A choir of children sang along, voices lifting to the heavens. Behind him, James could hear Brother Ofim softly reciting scriptures, readying himself. One of the Elves stood beside him, ready to offer the brief words which would give his Queen a new King.
James closed his eyes. The winter would be hard. The years afterwards, harder. A King's work was never done. Yet... he looked again at the bride approaching. Yet he would have Ewa at his side.
What more could he ever ask of a loving God?
The End
March 11th, 2014
Edited by Packrat